Hell Gate Anthologies  Volume 1
by ElvenAngelMayCry
Summary: A collection of 10 short stories. Contains OCs, fanfic-verse, independent stories, some talk about writing. Also, bit of fluff and randomness. Rated T for language. Individual summaries in the intro.
1. Read This First

**Devil May Cry: Hell Gate Anthologies, Volume 1**

**READ THIS FIRST**

Brevity is not my strong point, never has and I suspect it never will be when it comes to writing. However, I have always been interested in short stories. I love reading them, breaking down what makes them great or not and I think that they truly are an art form of their own, one that is actually getting a bit lost over the years. People are more interested in writing that best-seller novel than they are in the artistic medium of the short story. It's harder to find good anthologies in bookstores-especially since most of the shelves these days are choking on bad vampire fiction. Ugh.

If you want an example of great storytelling in small packages neatly piled together, try Angela Carter's _The Bloody Chamber and Other Stories_.

Thankfully (or not?) fanfiction seems to fare a little better in this department as people write about as much short stories and one-shots as they do 100-chapter epics... But I digress.

This started as a prompt list challenge that I originally found on LiveJournal once upon a time. Since I haven't been there in a dog's age, I've no idea what others did with it. I took it up with practice in mind, like keeping stories short and making them as fulfilling as longer ones. Over time I sort of abandoned the list thing and a lot of the themes to suit what I wanted to write. What I've wound up with is a batch of stories I will fit together into an anthology or two.

I started serious work on these back while I was struggling with writer's block with _Crossfire_. It was a bit frustrating to be unable to work on my project and yet I could jot out one-shots. Most of these ended up as short scenes rather than individual stories, but they were still fun. I have a theory that usually, if a story was fun to write, it'll also be fun to read, but don't quote me on that one.

On another level, these short stories are also experiments; they're perfect for testing out different ways of writing or trying out stylistic ideas that come to mind sometimes. On a few of them I'm just screwing around. And as I'll openly admit, others are just there to satisfy mine and my friends' fangirly/fanboyish whims. After all, we're entitled to some slightly sillier fun.

It's actually quite fun to think about how long it took me to write each one. Some took longer than others. I can think of two that were written in under a single afternoon and I can think of one that took six bloody months to get right.

For those interested in terms of continuity, these are in canon (so to speak) with my other fanfics, _Frail Equilibrium_ and _Crossfire_. Some are set after, some before, some during... You can tell if you read them.

It might be fun for you to know that I've used a deck of tarot cards to determine the order they would appear in. I took the suit of Swords, assigned stories to each card and then dealt them randomly. It's an interesting result. I've also written short notes about each story at the bottom of them. You can choose to ignore them if you like, since they're just ramblings of my own, like my thoughts on each story, or interesting (in my opinion, at least) facts about what prompted the story in my mind and the like.

Before I forget, I'd like to thank Brett, Razzmatazzy and Alexx for their help with these stories. You guys are the best.

I'll leave you with that, dear readers, and I hope you enjoy this little anthology.

**Contents**

**Title:** Time Out**  
>Characters: <strong>Dante**  
>Word Count:<strong> 1.212**  
>Summary:<strong> If a man's home is his fortress, then a devil hunter's office, no matter how neglected, is his home.**  
>Warnings:<strong> Some mild language.**  
>Disclaimer:<strong> Devil May Cry and all related characters belong to Capcom.

**Title:** Helpless**  
>Characters:<strong> Dante, Tess (OC), Roy (OC)**  
>Word Count:<strong> 1.656**  
>Summary:<strong> "This isn't about you being human!" Dante barked, stomping closer to her. "This is about you not thinking before jumping in to fight a demon you can't handle! I can afford to be reckless-but not you! I was right there! Why didn't you call me to help you?"**  
>Warnings:<strong> Some mild language.**  
>Disclaimer:<strong> Devil May Cry and all related characters belong to Capcom. Original characters belong to me.

**Title:** Drifting**  
>Characters:<strong> Vergil**  
>Word Count:<strong> 1.437**  
>Summary:<strong> Vergil contemplates what he'll do next.**  
>Warnings:<strong> Set straight after the end of _Crossfire_.**  
>Disclaimer:<strong> Devil May Cry and all related characters belong to Capcom.**  
><strong>

**Title:** The Memento**  
>Characters:<strong> Dante, Patty**  
>Word Count: <strong>1.795**  
>Summary:<strong> Patty discovers that Dante has some secrets that make him look oddly human.**  
>Warnings:<strong> Treads into anime-verse. Set before _Crossfire_. Mild language.**  
>Disclaimer:<strong> Devil May Cry and all related characters belong to Capcom.**  
><strong>

**Title:** Couch Devils**  
>Characters:<strong> Dante, Tess (oc), Magda (oc)**  
>Word Count:<strong> 1,396**  
>Summary:<strong> Cold evenings and blankets have this amazing way of drawing people together.**  
>Warnings:<strong> Mild language, disproportionate amounts of cute.**  
>Disclaimer:<strong> Devil May Cry and all related characters belong to Capcom. Original characters belong to me.

**Title: **Dust and Memories**  
>Characters: <strong>Dante, Tess (OC).**  
>Word Count: <strong>2.896**  
>Summary:<strong> Dante and Tess happen upon the scene of their very first meeting: The apartment building from their teenage years and spontaneously, some memories come up.**  
>Warnings: <strong>Some mild language.**  
>Disclaimer:<strong> Devil May Cry and all related characters belong to Capcom. Original characters belong to me.**  
><strong>

**Title:** Web of Lies**  
>Characters: <strong>Sparda, Nevan**  
>Word Count: <strong>2.265**  
>Summary:<strong> Nevan sees that the noble Dark Knight Sparda can be like all other deceitful demons, after all.**  
>Warnings: <strong>Slight Sparda/Nevan if you believe they actually had something going on.**  
>Disclaimer:<strong> Devil May Cry and all related characters belong to Capcom.

**Title:** Turn Back the Clock**  
>Characters:<strong> Vergil, Dante**  
>Word Count:<strong> 2.672**  
>Summary:<strong> Vergil recalls some better times of his life with Dante.**  
>Warnings: <strong>Set before _Crossfire_. Contains frame narrative.**  
>Disclaimer:<strong> Devil May Cry and all related characters belong to Capcom. Original characters belong to me.

**Title:** Bad Calculations**  
>Characters:<strong> Lady, Tess (OC).**  
>Word Count:<strong> 2.646**  
>Summary:<strong> Tess and Lady find points of connection between them on the job; two human women wading in a sea of demons can be friends and complain together...about slime.**  
>Warnings:<strong> Warning for a few squeamish moments.**  
>Disclaimer:<strong> Devil May Cry and all related characters belong to Capcom. Original characters belong to me.

**Title:** Distance Will Not Betray**  
>Characters: <strong>Dante, Tess (OC).**  
>Word Count:<strong> 3.977**  
>Summary:<strong> It's been a few years since their parting. Tess and Dante contemplate what this distance means for the two of them.**  
>Warnings:<strong> Mild to strong language.**  
>Disclaimer:<strong> Devil May Cry and all related characters belong to Capcom. Original characters belong to me.


	2. Time Out

**Title:** Time Out**  
>Characters: <strong>Dante**  
>Word Count:<strong> 1.212**  
>Summary:<strong> If a man's home is his fortress, then a devil hunter's office, no matter how neglected, is his home.**  
>Warnings:<strong> Some mild language.**  
>Disclaimer:<strong> Devil May Cry and all related characters belong to Capcom.

* * *

><p>Dante never did appreciate long and drawn out jobs. He always complained of boredom and lack of challenge in any of the jobs he took on, but deep down he knew that he actually disliked the ones that drew out too long. It wasn't that he got tired so much as that he just felt jaded and uninterested. One would think that dealing with demons on a fairly frequent basis would mean saving the world just about as often but that was not the case. The kind of jobs that required world-saving bravado and his complete attention were few and painfully far between.<p>

So much that he often resisted the temptation to go and goad people or demons into starting another of those charades. He sometimes wished that someone would in fact go and try to deconstruct the world just so he'd have something worthwhile to do. He always felt guilty when that thought crossed his mind and he could even get a bit moody, then immense himself in one of these lesser jobs, even if they frustrated him to no end.

_Home, sweet home,_ Dante thought sarcastically, after one such long and yet small-fry job, pushing open the front door.

He stepped inside with a soft sigh of jadedness, almost overcoming his sense of appreciation for a good place to rest. He paced over to his desk and propped his sword horizontally on two hooks that were drilled into the wall, letting the door slam shut behind him. With a huff, he removed his coat and negligently threw it on the hanger beside the bathroom door. He flexed his arms a bit as he reached out and removed Ebony and Ivory from their holster and tossed them onto the desk. He took the holster off and threw it on the hanger along with the coat, uttering a small grunt of soreness. He stretched his back, grimacing at the small popping sound that escaped the base of his neck.

_Story of my life, _Dante thoughtfully, rubbing his neck._ 'Nother boring-as-hell job, 'nother day wasted__._

He approached the window and forced a slit between the blinds with his fingers, looking at the dusk sky overhead. _Clouds pulling together,_ he noted silently. More than likely meant a thunderstorm on the way. _Fun._

At least he had the forethought to park his motorcycle under the shed of the alley next to his office. The less he needed to take care of it, the better. The job he had just completed was nothing more than a mild infestation of Bloodgoyles that a rookie Satanist had somehow managed to pull off. Dante had scoffed at the sheer terror of the culprit for the very demons he had summoned. But he was so bored of the whole deal that he didn't even have the mood to mess with that sorry sop's head.

_I should stop taking jobs with small-time vermin and just pass 'em over to Lady, _Dante thought to himself.

He walked over to the other door leading to the small kitchen behind his office. He swung the fridge door open, mused the sparse contents: A leftover pizza and Chinese takeaway and some materials for sandwiches that he was certain were fairly old by now. He picked a beer bottle from the door shelves and glanced around. Because he hardly used the kitchen to cook anything, it was probably one of the tidiest places in his office, though not quite the cleanest.

Letting the fridge door swing shut, he popped the cap off with his hand and went back inside the office, rubbing the back of his neck in an unsuccessful attempt to massage it. The dark hues of twilight were painting the office with tones of mauve, dark blue and ashen, dulling all the other colors. He didn't bother to turn on the lights, enjoying this dimming light and the tranquility of the hour. Sirens of police cars shrieked somewhere in the distance of the slums that made up the nervous system of the city; unrest was never absent, just like a body never stopped fighting off germs. He wanted to relax after that dull job and get back into his routine of passive anticipation till the next job. He regretted that Trish wasn't around to mess with; Lady was out of the question, of course.

Taking a swig of the cool beer he appreciated how it trickled down his throat, cooling his thirst. He walked right past his desk, absently glancing at the framed photograph of his mother. A minute pang of guilt hit him as he continued past it; there was a time when he used to greet her quietly, but not anymore. It had sunk right through his routine. It wasn't that he had completely let go of his mother's death at the hands of demons. He just had tried hard to come to terms with that loss and move on as best he could...but then again, he _did_ hunt demons for a living.

Dante went straight to the jukebox at the corner of his office and, after a moment's hesitation, pushed one of the buttons. He frowned as the machine gave no favorable response, and prodded the button irritably. He was close to punching it and possibly breaking it-yet again-when the machine let a soft click and the disk finally slid into place and began to play.

_Gotta love this old piece of junk,_ he thought with a sigh. He wouldn't have to have to get violent with the antique again.

The couch groaned in protest as Dante collapsed into it leisurely, letting the tunes of a song by System of a Down to start booming in the room. Relaxing, he put his legs up on the small coffee table in front of the sofa, and thudding his ankle on the wood, and crossing the other leg over it.

He downed another swig of beer; _this is more like it._

He let his lead tilt back and rest against the soft cushion, staring at the ceiling where the twilight cast shadowy tendrils and forms about the room. He smirked a bit. Even though he hardly paid it any attention, he appreciated his office dearly, especially for these relaxing moments where he could just kick back and rest without being bothered.

He exhaled deeply, even humming a bit of the music absently before he closed his eyes and took another swig of his beer, enjoying the twilight peace. Dante knew Trish was out of town on one of her trips and Lady was on a job, so he didn't have to worry about anyone interrupting his peace. Sometimes he really appreciated having a personal space like this and even more so when he had it all to himself to relax.

And then that darn phone rang. Dante opened his eyes slowly as the harsh, repetitive sound drilled in his ear and he sighed slowly.

_No rest for the wicked and all that..._ he thought as a wry smile passed over his features.

For a long moment he was tempted to just let it ring on and on but then he got up slowly and walked over to his desk. He picked up the receiver with a lazy grasp.

"Devil May Cry..."

* * *

><p><strong>NOTE: <strong>I've always liked the design of Dante's office in the games. It looks like such a messy place but for some reason, at the same time it just looks like Dante belongs there. It's a great metaphor for his character, in fact and this scene more or less was written with that in mind and my own idea that Dante really appreciates his dingy little place.


	3. Helpless

**Title:** Helpless**  
>Characters:<strong> Dante, Tess (OC), Roy (OC)**  
>Word Count:<strong> 1.656**  
>Summary:<strong> "This isn't about you being human!" Dante barked, stomping closer to her. "This is about you not thinking before jumping in to fight a demon you can't handle! I can afford to be reckless-but not you! I was right there! Why didn't you call me to help you?"**  
>Warnings:<strong> Some mild language.**  
>Disclaimer:<strong> Devil May Cry and all related characters belong to Capcom. Original characters belong to me.

* * *

><p>"Ow!" Tess tried to tug her arm from Roy's grip. "<em>Ow<em>-Roy, now you're just poking it on purpose!"

"Don't move!" the djinn protested. He tightened his grip around her wrist. "Keep your arm still, I'm not done!"

The middle-aged man shook his head, muttering irritably. His gaze looked nervous behind his narrow sunglasses and he put up his hand to lower them on his nose; he wanted a better look at the burn on the woman's shoulder. As the shades uncovered his eyes, they also uncovered the large scar that blighted his left eye-socket, sealing it shut. He dipped his fingers in a thick balm from a small jar on the coffee table and spread it over the nasty burn along the redhead's arm.

"Tess, this is not a simple burn; it's almost burned your skin off the muscles," he said strictly.

She looked away with a huff, shaking her head abruptly to move some of her hair off her face. She stared at the floor of Dante's office, green hues fixed on the floorboards and her lips pinched together stubbornly.

"Yeah, well, it'll heal. Not the first time I burn myself because my fire goes out of control," she said dryly, pulling her cut shirt up over her chest better. Roy had to cut the scorched sleeve open to expose her burned arm in order to take care of it, rather than hurting it more by trying to drag it through the sleeve.

Roy sighed, shaking his head at her perpetual stubbornness.

Dante was watching the whole scene from his desk, legs propped up on the surface with an irritated look on his face. He had that look from the moment he dragged her back to his office after that huge fire demon finally croaked it. She had protested, saying she could take care of her arm by herself but Dante had growled at her angrily and nearly hauled her back before he called her own familiar. He had told Roy to get himself to his office so abruptly that the shape-shifting djinn had nearly felt offended.

"Look, you're just fussing over nothing. It's just another burn," she told Roy.

She watched him wrap the large burn with a length of bandage. Her skin was red and blistered, and in places it was peeling and exposing raw under-skin. The splash-like pattern spread from below her elbow to a few inches below her shoulder. It looked very painful despite not being her first serious burn.

Dante scoffed at her comment. "Oh yeah, just another burn that you got from trying to stop a demon only four times your size, Twig."

"I could handle it," the witch snapped with a sharp glare. "I was doing fine, the burn was just an accide—_ow_!" she winced as Roy tied the bandage up.

"Yeah, the fuck you were," Dante snapped back, returning a scowl. "You were gonna get yourself barbequed."

"Save your breath, you suck at lecturing people," she interrupted. "I don't always need you to jump in and save me. I'm not some weak little girl, alright?"

Dante released a sarcastic scoff, as if mocking her statement. Roy rolled his eyes at her attitude and got up from the sofa. "Tess, you're not in the right this time," he said in a sigh and headed for the bathroom to wash the balm and disinfectant off his hands. "Dante's got a point. You're skilled, but you do have your limits. You're lucky he was there and things didn't get worse."

"Oh bite me!" she snapped, indignant that he was taking Dante's side. She got up and pulled her shirt upwards again to keep her chest covered. "This is just your usual shit about humans being unable to fight demons whatsoever! You're a fucking hypocri-"

Dante slammed his feet on the ground as he pushed the chair back from the desk and stood up angrily. "This isn't about you being human!" he barked, stomping closer to her. "This is about you not thinking before jumping in to fight a demon you can't handle! I can afford to be reckless—but not you! I was right there! Why didn't you call me to help you?"

His shouting startled her, but not nearly enough to stop her from answering. "I didn't need any help!" she shouted back.

"_My ass _you didn't!" he growled, glaring at her and gritting his teeth. "If I hadn't turned that corner and seen you, you would've been a pile of ashes now! You've got to get this into your head Tess: You're not invincible! You're a freakin' witch, I know you're good—but you're still no match for demons like that! For fuck's sake, do you have get yourself killed before your stubborn little head gets that?"

"I know my limits," she returned with a growl. "Nobody asked you to come running after me every time! I'm not made of glass, as you might think!"

He seemed angrier now than before. "Well fine! Next time I'm gonna let you get burned to a crisp or mauled to pieces or crushed. That'll keep you happy!" he snapped, throwing his arm up in an exasperated, angry gesture, turning away from her and pacing over to the window.

Tess returned the angry scowl and then looked away abruptly. She realized that he had a point, that she did have much smaller limits than him and trying to fight every demon in her path without help was stupid. But it really bothered her all the time. Tess bit her lips together in a frustrated, irritable manner; she hated troubling others with her affairs and she hated having to turn to him so often for help. Even though he was indeed there, just a few feet away while she faced down the massive fire demon, she still hadn't called for his help.

"I know I acted a bit stupid and I'm sorry for getting you upset—but that doesn't give you the right to lecture me," she said stubbornly. "Whatever, I'm going home."

She swiped her keys off the coffee table and stormed out of his office, leaving the door to swing shut slowly in her wake.

"Yeah, good riddance," Dante snarled, returning to his desk, as Roy emerged from the bathroom, wiping his hands in some tissue paper.

"Ah, heh-heh...she's gone off eh?" he half-asked, half-observed, tossing the crumbled tissues in the wastebasket.

"She's fuckin' stubborn. It's gonna get her killed someday," Dante snapped, landing in his chair and throwing his legs up onto his desk with loud thuds.

"Yes, that much I know," Roy sighed, picking the small jar and the disinfectant bottle from the table. "But you know how she is. She's going to fume about it all evening, but she knows you're right. Sooner or later she's going to call you just to mutter an apology and hang up, haha." He made a small, dismissive wave with his hand.

Dante snorted. "Yeah, sounds like her," he said. "Why's she always gotta be like this, old man?"

Roy chuckled, shrugging and pushing his glasses up his nose. "She can't help it. Not used to depending on others, not even me, and I've nearly raised her. She just hates the idea we might be leaving her behind so to say..."

Dante just scoffed again, shaking his head. "Sounds just stupid to me."

Roy cackled. "Stupid, yes. She's been like that since she was a toddler. Way before you met her, even. Remember the old neighborhood?"

Dante nodded. "Yeah. Rough ghetto, a really shitty place to live: Junkies, crooks and perverts in every corner." He gave a lopsided smile, remembering the old days with a certain fondness. "You know, before the demons rolled in and fucked it up even more."

"Yes, exactly. I think you remember how she used to be, a little stone-cold bitch."

"An understatement," Dante said heavily.

"Yes. Years before you showed up, there used to be more people living in the neighborhood, the building even. Used to be actual kids around. Tess always got into fights; I suppose she couldn't help it, being that different as she was. But same then as now; she'd never ask for help, never back down…"

"Sounds like her. Surprised you never killed any of 'em for that," Dante scoffed.

Roy waved his hand in a dismissive way. "Bah, I don't do that sort of thing. I used to shout at her, pretty much like you just did."

Dante scoffed, rolling his eyes and even Roy chuckled at the memory. "My God, I think about it now and it's almost comical. I'm sitting in the kitchen wiping blood and spit from her bruised face, this skinny little girl…She had this serious, icy look on her face—"

"The Tess look," Dante chuckled. "She's always had that."

Roy laughed. "Yes, you're right! I was telling her the same thing that you did. Ask for help when she needs it. But she just looked at me and said 'but this is my problem, why do I have to throw it on you?' Aah, I wanted to spank her then. She made me upset and then had the nerve to tell me she didn't like throwing problems at me…"

Dante just snorted, nodding. That was indeed Tess to a fault; her own silly pride. He understood it, because his pride made him do other, equally idiotic things but it still made him angry because she was a lot more fragile than him-and then he figured that she'd sooner kick him in the nuts than even let him think of that. "Always used to dealing with things on her own, huh?"

"You said it. Been like that since always," Roy sighed. "Well, I'll be going now; I think we both bothered you enough today."

Dante just shrugged, relaxing in his chair. "Whatever. Just keep her out of things until her burn heals. Tie her up if you have to—or I will. Not in the mood of having to scoop up her pieces if she gets killed."

Roy just smirked at him, waving over his shoulder as he shut the door behind him. Dante exhaled deeply, relieved that her burn was just a superficial one after all, and the whole storm had blown over.

_Dammit Twig...don't know if you're completely crazy or you got a fuckin' death wish,_ he thought with a scowl. _I hate it when you make me worry, crazy woman. And it always gets to me._

* * *

><p><strong>NOTE: <strong>It's an important part of Tess' character, to define that she is really human despite her powers, and that she really does hate it when people get loaded with her problems. But it's also an important flaw of her personality that she sometimes gets so sidetracked by that sense of independence and she'll go and do something stupid. I wanted to emphasize that somewhat stone-headed part of her character with this scene and how it makes others feel-particularly people who care about her.


	4. Drifting

**Title:** Drifting**  
>Characters:<strong> Vergil**  
>Word Count:<strong> 1.437**  
>Summary:<strong> Vergil contemplates what he'll do next.**  
>Warnings:<strong> Set straight after the end of _Crossfire_.**  
>Disclaimer:<strong> Devil May Cry and all related characters belong to Capcom.

* * *

><p><em>It's strange that I feel like I have to get used to freedom again, <em>Vergil thought. He stared at his hand, closing his fist briefly and then relaxed it. _To get used to my own strength once more._

He dropped his hand on his thigh again and looked up. A landmass glided by slowly as the ferry pushed through the water. Vergil stared at the scene before him idly: The sea rising and falling against the rocks of a sheer cliff-side that seemed to stretch on forever. Sailing by, the ship seemed small and powerless before the height of the cliffs and the churning sound of the waves crashing against them. Despite the roaring sound, there was something surprisingly non-violent about the way the waves broke on the rock. Almost like the caress of a lover, rough but tender at the same time-that's what he might have thought _if_ he were prone to make such allusions.

_This ship is nothing but a leaf in a much greater force and yet...it is the only thing that is actually moving with some kind of purpose. It can forge its way through this sea while everything around it remains...immovable._

He glanced up as a seagull screeched overhead. A few of them followed the ship's course on stretched wings, lithe forms riding the wind smoothly. Sometimes they would dip, plummeting towards the water, just to rise again and climb higher. They didn't even need to beat their wings, staying aloft over the breeze almost as if by sheer will.

Vergil looked away, back towards the stream of foamy water left in the small ferry's wake. The port it had left behind was just barely visible now, soon to be nothing but a speck in the distance. He wasn't quite sure where the ferry was heading, and he didn't really care; he just needed that undefined destination. He turned his eyes again at the ship. The upper rear deck, where he sat on a bench by himself, was empty. There had been someone there earlier, picking up some discarded materials left from a maintenance job, but they were gone now and to his surprise, Vergil had not really noticed them leaving. He must have been lost in thought. The ferry sailed on over the choppy waters and he found, to his surprise, something very soothing about the smell of the sea.

_There was a time when I felt certain that by becoming truly powerful I could get back everything I have lost. And yet now I find myself...unsure of what I lost._

He glanced down and to his side, at the sheathed katana resting on the bench beside him. Yamato had served him well all these years, through the worst battles imaginable. It served him through battles against his brother...

He looked up again. Clouds, heavy with rain, were traveling overhead, heading back to the land he left behind. He mused them idly for a moment and then returned his gaze to the ocean and the rising cliffs that were slowly but surely beginning to end. Soon they too would be left behind, to vanish into the distance. The breeze grew stronger momentarily and a tuft of his hair suddenly flopped downward over his forehead. He seemed surprised for a moment and quite sheepishly put his hand up and brushed it back into place with his fingers.

_I have struggled hard to bury all those feelings that make me weak. That...make me human. But this particular feeling is so...different. I am free...but I don't know what to do._

He reacted to that thought by bending forward slightly and resting his elbows on his legs, fingers entwined pensively. Two men walked out on the deck from one of the doors that led to one of the passenger lounges; they came from the far side to Vergil and he briefly watched them walk all the way to the end of the deck and stop there, talking quietly and very calmly. One of them lit a cigarette and they stood there, watching the ocean, completely motionless. They perfectly ignored him. Curiously enough, Vergil felt no aversion to this human presence so nearby and it dawned on him that he didn't care about being on that ship in the first place.

Vergil persistently stared at the weather-worn floorboards of the ship's deck while he mulled over those realizations. He could deny it, thinking that what he wanted to was resume his quest for power but...

_But I have already been burned twice by this. The last time I nearly lost my life and I most certainly lost my freedom. Then I became entangled in a centuries old game played by two witches, just to get my freedom back. I got it, no doubt, but I was still used by someone else._

He tried to force his thoughts away. It would be...inconvenient to wonder just what kind of power he was seeking and whether he _needed_ it. However, thoughts have a persistent way of eluding control and following their own trails, just like wayward streams that burst their bank.

_I want power in order to become more like Father. Because...because I lacked the power to protect mother when the demons came. I could not protect myself. I could not protect..._

Vergil parted his hands and tightened his fists a little. Then suddenly he sat straight again and brought his hand to his shirt's collar and pulled the amulet out. Briefly he thought that this was the only connection he had left to his mother...and to his brother. He stared at it for a while, seeing his reflection in the dark ruby-like gem that made its core. Though he had been restored to power and his vitality had returned fully, he was surprised to notice that his experiences were etched out perfectly in his look. The way he gazed and the way that his face, even completely calm, looked jaded and...shockingly human.

_I wanted power for the sake of it. Because I believed it would sever me from my human side. When I was Nelo Angelo, I was no more human than the demons surrounding me, yet I was a slave to someone else's will. I believed myself to have achieved my goal but...in truth, I was nothing like father. I was just a puppet to someone else's whim._

He looked away from the amulet. He would never even admit to himself that he truly needed help to escape that darkest hour of his-let alone that he would need Dante. Seeing his reflection made him think of his brother. That thought, that he would need his brother, whom he always considered weaker, to help him was just preposterous and it still made his blood boil-yet he knew his own indignation and it wasn't anger. He was just too proud to admit gratitude.

_But...was it that he has grown strong, or that I was weak?_

He tucked the amulet away under his shirt with a calm decisiveness and took a deep breath. The salty, moist air of the sea filled his lungs and he breathed out suddenly. It was a good scent, actually; visceral and primal yet so sublime, older than mankind and even certain demons. But he also knew that pride had been part of his downfall. He was beginning to question his own desire to sever himself from his weaker, human traits but he was only just starting to wonder at what cost he could achieve that. He wondered if that was really the answer he was looking for.

_What power I have now...will suffice for the time being. There are many ways for me to attain power. But first...I must define my purpose. I need to decide what direction I will follow. Like this ship, I need a purpose..._

A seagull screeched overhead again and Vergil watched it swoop down towards the boat, almost crashing into the deck, but it swerved gracefully upwards again, just to perch on one of the benches on the other side of the deck, right across him. The bird turned its beady eye to him for a moment, screeched again and then took to preening its wings briefly and looking around. It stood there but for a few moments, fluttering its wings sometimes before stretching them fully out and with a few nonchalant flaps, took off again into the sea wind. Vergil followed with his eyes for a few moments, coming to a calm conclusion.

_And if I will seek power, it will be of my own nature. I will not eat out of someone's hand ever again. _

* * *

><p><strong>NOTE: <strong>For some reason I find it extremely hard to write Vergil well. I don't know, he just doesn't jump out on paper the way other DMC characters do, which is odd, because I really love his characterization as a cold, calculative kind of guy who is very goal-driven to the point of his own detriment. However, I still think that Vergil is, above all, a creature of reason and prone to think about what he'll do next, even if in the canon we have seen that there are moments when even he throws that out of the window and does something that honestly isn't very reasonable.

At the end of _Crossfire_ Vergil just up and leaves, taking the amulet with him. I'm not sure what he'd do, but I really believe that for some time at least, he might be plagued by these kind of thoughts, concerning what he'll do next. I tried to leave an open end to this kind of idea, not really wanting to just randomly put Vergil on a 'path to redemption' or something of a 'self-discovery journey'. I think those terms, while perfectly good character development, have been done to death and I'm not ready to go down that road unless I've got some good reason.

I think Vergil would rather find himself caught in a sort of personal crisis concerning whether he just needs power and what he really needs it for, trying to reconcile those ideas. Probably never attempt to 'gain power' again if that means he must turn to an external force. What he'll want to do is become powerful on his own.


	5. The Memento

**Title:** The Memento**  
>Characters:<strong> Dante, Patty**  
>Word Count: <strong>1.796**  
>Summary:<strong> Patty discovers that Dante has some secrets that make him look oddly human.**  
>Warnings:<strong> Treads into anime-verse. Set before _Crossfire_. Mild language.**  
>Disclaimer:<strong> Devil May Cry and all related characters belong to Capcom.

* * *

><p>Dante was still apprehensive of Patty hanging around his office so much and going on cleaning campaigns, but he had given up trying to talk her into stopping. Any such attempts had been futile, at best. So, whenever she came in and started stomping around with a bucket and a mop, he just accepted the inevitable, kept to himself, and lay on the couch to get a quick nap. It didn't take a lot for him to tune out the noises and sleep through the whole thing.<p>

That evening Patty was attacking his desk, clearing away beer bottles and cans, empty pizza cartons and bits of useless paper. The girl seemed almost furious in her fussing.

"The whole place turns into a real pigsty in just a week!" she huffed, scrubbing a cheese stain off the desk.

Dante was lying on the sofa as usual, with a magazine left open over his face, arms crossed behind his head. He ignored her. Patty glared at him for a moment and then put down her scrubbing rag to pick up a logbook left on the desk. She raised an eyebrow at it. Dante rarely did any accounting or any form of paperwork, but earlier she had seen him scribble some things in this logbook after he came back from a job. Perhaps he _was_ keeping some track of his earnings after all. She pulled one of the drawers of the desk open to stow it in there, but before she placed it in, she paused and stared at the contents of the drawer.

Patty gave a quick glance to Dante. He seemed to be snoozing for good. Quietly she put the logbook on the desk's surface again and reached in the drawer, pulling out a folded piece of dark cloth. She picked it up from its edge, so as she lifted it, the weight inside it moved and fell out of the folds of the cloth as it opened, landing in the drawer with a small clatter.

"Where'd this come from?" she wondered aloud, picking the object up.

Though she knew better than touching anything unusual in Dante's office by now, she was fairly certain this particular trinket was harmless. First of all, it was a crucifix and she was sure that if anything would be demonic, it probably wouldn't be shaped like a cross. And after all, it was so painfully plain-looking that it couldn't have been anything other than a simple trinket. She held it in her hand with a curious look. It was a small cross, an inch or two long. It looked like it was made of silver and had a black, smooth and reflective stone set in the very middle where the arms met. It was a little clumsy-looking, as if it had been made by hand and not within a mold. It looked old, but the silver had not surrendered its glisten. She raised an eyebrow at the cord it hung from, though. While the ornament itself looked like it was of some value, it was attached to a rough, black cord that felt like aged leather, but by the texture she could tell it was some kind of thin rope. She couldn't see how something so cheap and vulgar could be attached to what seemed to be a precious antique of some kind.

More importantly though, that necklace was obviously made for a woman; so why did Dante have it?

_If this is his idea of a proper present for a girl, he really is stupid,_ she thought with a frown. _And this thing looks expensive. So he can afford silver jewelry, but not a chain to go with it-or clothes for me?_

"Patty, what are you doing?"

Patty nearly jumped when he spoke. "Hey, I thought you were sleeping," she said. Looking over at the sofa, she saw him pull the magazine off his face and sit up, putting his feet on the floor.

"I was, but when you stop making a racket, that's bad news," he sighed. He rested his elbows on his knees briefly, looking over at her.

He saw her standing over his desk and immediately noticed the dark piece of cloth lying open on it. His eyebrows bowed up slightly and he stood up.

"What've you got there?" he said, going over to her and trying to look nonchalant.

"I found this in your desk!" Patty said confidently. She held the necklace out to the side, away from him while putting out a hand and stopping him in his trail. "What is this?" she demanded. "Look, if you're going to buy jewelry for a girl, you need a better taste, no woman would wear a cross this old with a piece of rope and-"

"Patty, give me that," he said, a little sharply.

She stared back, stunned. He hardly ever talked like that, at least not around her. It wasn't like his tone when demons were involved either, she could tell that much.

"Don't make me repeat myself," he went on, a little bit forcefully, holding out his hand.

This tone of his made her feel that the issue was oddly..._personal_. Without a word, she put the necklace in his hand. Silently, with a manner of suppressed indignation, he swept the cloth up from the desk and moved away, but didn't fold it up. He seemed to hesitate, staring at the cross in his hand with the cloth idly held in the other while his arm hung on his side.

"So what is that?" she asked. "Whose is it?"

Her questions seemed to snap him out his absent-minded state and he put the cross necklace in the cloth again and folded it up. He didn't answer though.

"Hey, don't go quiet on me! Tell me!" she insisted, almost stamping her foot on the floor. "Don't make me bet it on a poker game-you know you'll lose!"

"Belongs to this girl I used to know. A long time ago," he said dryly, making her hush immediately. He put the folded up object in his pocket, his hand resting there idly as he stared out the window, keeping his back to her.

"A girl? How long ago?" Patty insisted, now that she got him talking.

He sighed, turning around and leaning his back on the wall, crossing his ankle over the other, hand still his pocket. "Ten years or something."

"That's a long time!" she exclaimed. "Where is she now?"

He didn't answer.

She gulped. "Is she...dead?"

He snorted "I don't know. I don't know where she is. But that's part of the fun. She always liked surprises."

She couldn't understand how that could make sense. He didn't know if that girl was alive or dead and yet he spoke of it as if it was some kind of game. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"That I don't know where she is or what she's doing. I haven't seen her all this time," he pointed out the obvious.

"But why?"

"She asked me not to."

Patty huffed. "Ugh, you must've treated her really badly if she asked you that!" she said, folding her arms.

Dante didn't respond to that jibe and Patty frowned. Normally, Dante ignored her when she asked him things like these. But he seemed amused to nearly make a joke out of the memory of this mysterious girl. Still, he was answering and she was going to milk that for it was worth.

"What's her name?"

He smirked in a lopsided manner. "Tess. Come to think of it, I always called her Twig, though..."

Patty grimaced. "Ugh, what kind of name is that?"

He shrugged. "Wasn't my fault she was so skinny. Thin as a twig."

"What, thinner than me?"

"Way thinner."

"Why, was she sick or something?"

Dante scoffed. "No, she was just puny. You'd think most girls start looking feminine at that age, but she was just skinny."

"Doesn't sound like you liked her much," she huffed. "You never talk about people like that."

He shrugged. "Heh, you should have heard her talk about me. Real shrew, that girl. Makes you and Lady both look tame."

Patty raised an eyebrow at that comment, but she was curious about this girl. "How did you meet her?"

Dante huffed, moving back to his desk at leisure. He sat in his chair and raised his legs on the desk, letting them thud on the wood as he crossed them. "Had to live in a boarding house, before I got this joint. Her granny and...uncle ran the place. You could say we were neighbors."

"You were a kid then?" she suggested. She tried to picture how Dante might've looked as a teenager or a kid. "What about her, was she older-"

"Same age," he interrupted.

"So were you friends or something?"

"Something like that. We fought a lot, but we got along."

"What happened to her?"

That question was not answered. Dante just exhaled quietly and linked his fingers together, resting his hands on his chest. He didn't seem like he wanted to answer that. Patty huffed, thinking that this was all she was going to get out of him and seized the rag from the desk, turning around to go back to her cleaning.

"She had to leave. No idea where to. She gave me this thing to hold on to for her," he said, sounding almost angry about that, eyes shut and looking like he was going to doze off. But he opened his eyes again and actually glared at her. "This is between you and me, got it?" he said.

Patty stopped, looking over. He seemed really affronted by the issue after all. She nodded sheepishly, but she still asked: "Why?"

"Because you rubbing salt on old wounds is bad enough," he said, and had a rather grim tone.

She stared at him a little; this _definitely_ was a personal issue. He never talked about himself. What Patty knew about him came from Lady mostly, sometimes Morrison too. Neither had mentioned this or any part of his life before they met him. He just never spoke of that. She asked him another thing that crossed her mind.

"So, was she your _girlfriend_?"

Dante looked at her with the corner of his eyes for a moment, like the question had offended him somehow, then he just picked up one of the magazines on the desk and opened it, fixing his gaze in the open pages. She raised an eyebrow. There he went again, with the puzzling silence. And yet this time she got the feeling that he had reacted a little differently than when she had asked him the same thing about Trish or Lady.

Like the question had _embarrassed_ him.

* * *

><p><strong>NOTE: <strong>I really was experimenting here, to see how the anime-verse of DMC worked with my stories. Not _too_ well to be honest, and I've never been certain about just _how_ canon the anime is in relation to the games. I mean, yeah, Capcom claims it is, but I'm not a 100% sure it works right. But this snippet was pretty good and I decided to include it in the anthology.

It spawned from me trying to bridge those two moments in _Frail Equilibrium_ and _Crossfire_, concerning Tess' necklace. I don't think seeing it is painful for Dante; he just prefers to keep it in the back of his mind rather than constantly facing with that long moment of loneliness that I described in the end of _Frail Equilibrium. _Which some people found somewhat emotionally overbearing or over-charged in terms of DMC's overall atmosphere. Some of you even got angry over it.


	6. Couch Devils

**Title:** Couch Devils**  
>Characters:<strong> Dante, Tess (oc), Magda (oc)**  
>Word Count:<strong> 1,396**  
>Summary:<strong> Cold evenings and blankets have this amazing way of drawing people together.**  
>Warnings:<strong> Mild language, disproportionate amounts of cute.**  
>Disclaimer:<strong> Devil May Cry and all related characters belong to Capcom. Original Characters belong to me.

* * *

><p>It had just been a silly incident back when they were teenagers and lived in the boarding house; recalling it made both of them smirk and sometimes dissolve into chuckles that often left others puzzled. It was one of <em>their<em> jokes, something only they understood, a funny memory of a time when they were both a little more innocent.

The building was old and the heating system always got cranky and refused to work properly at times, leaving them all freezing. It wasn't such a big issue for him, since he usually just threw on an extra shirt and felt fine. But for her, it was a completely different story. Dante could swear that Tess was half-cat, the way she desperately looked for warm places to huddle against.

One of those chilly evenings, she had resorted to dragging a blanket from her upstairs room to the common lounge on the ground floor. Although each had their own rooms, they still found the common lounge room-and-kitchen a better place to hang out and watch television or muck around, particularly occupying the oversized sofa that dominated the space in front of the television set. He nearly laughed out loud when he saw her coming in the lounge, carrying the dark purple blanket, then plopping onto the couch and wrapping it around herself and over her shoulders contently. The redhead serenely ignored his teasing and snuggled in her blanket to watch the late-night marathon that was running on television at the time.

He scoffed at her pleased look. "What, you're cold Twig? It's not that bad."

"Oh, shove it," she replied. "You'd feel comfortable out in the Arctic Circle."

"Pffft, unlike you. You get all whiny when it starts getting a little cold. What are you gonna do when the real winter kicks in, huh? Go into hibernation?"

"Shut up," she fired back at him.

He just chuckled and returned his attention to the TV screen. About an hour passed like that, with Dante or Tess occasionally going to the kitchen and grabbing a drink or a snack, or making some comment on what they were watching. They weren't keeping track of time, but around 10:00 pm, Dante was starting to feel the cold getting uncomfortable even for him.

"Hey, Twig," he said suddenly. "Gimmie a side of that blanket."

She stared at him with a raised eyebrow. "Oh, so now you're getting cold? Forget it, this blanket's not big enough for two people," she said, squirming and returning her attention to the TV again.

Dante frowned. "Tch, come on Twig! Don't be a tight-ass!" he said, reaching over and tugging one of the blanket's edges.

Tess tugged back. "Cut it out, go get your own!" she snapped.

Dante didn't let go, getting a fistful of the material and yanking it towards him, making her fall towards him. "Quit being such a shrew, just let me have the half-"

Tess struggled, grabbing the other half of the blanket. "I said, it's not big enough!" she hissed, tugging back.

"Just stop tugging it!"

"No, _you_ stop!"

They scuffled around for a couple of moments, neither of them relenting, shouting insults at each other and even launching a few rogue kicks at each other's sides until they heard a small tearing sound coming from the blanket, at which point both stopped. Tess inspected the blanket and showed him a small tear on the seams of the edge they were both pulling. It wasn't something that couldn't be repaired, but it still upset her.

"Ugh, look what you did with your pulling," she huffed.

"My pulling? You're the one who clamped that thing like a gator!" he scoffed.

"Yeah well, it _is_ my blanket after all," she huffed, pulling it towards her, in a pile on her lap.

"Hey, come on, give me a side, it's freakin' cold," he insisted, reaching for it again.

She glared and pulled it away, but then shuffled closer to him. "Fine. We'll share, but we have to sit close. It's not big enough."

Dante smirked. "Yeah, yeah, whatever you say," he teased, chuckling as she nearly growled at him while they pulled the fuzzy blanket over their shoulders, squeezing closely together.

Tess was slightly apprehensive about the whole thing in the beginning and sulked, but as they were more concentrated on the series they were watching, she got distracted, and forgot about her irritation. Eventually, due to them both being comfortable, they started leaning on each other, Dante absently putting one arm around her shoulders and letting her rest up against him so they could wrap the remainder of the blanket around them better. Their mood improved enough for Tess to crack some jokes.

"God I love that guy," she giggled, watching the protagonist do a signature 'sunglasses on' move.

"Why? He doesn't really do anything, it's just the sunglasses," Dante protested. "He's cheesy."

Tess giggled. "That's why I love him. He's cheesier than anything you'll ever say."

Dante smirked. "Oh, so you like it when I'm cheesy?" he asked, teasingly.

She just snickered and poked his side with her elbow.

After a while the marathon began airing episodes of the series they both had seen, causing them to gradually lose interest, while the warm, comfortable position made them both a little drowsy. Which of the two succumbed to sleep first was impossible to tell, since they both drifted off without realizing it.

A couple of hours later, Tess' strict and old-fashioned grandmother, Magda, returned to the boarding house after a certain errand she had to conclude. She was never particularly partial to Dante staying in the building and although she took care of and provided for her, she abused Tess verbally because of the girl's defiance. She heard the noise of the television in the lounge room and after taking her coat off, wandered in to see what was going on. She stopped right beside the sofa, her eyebrows bowing up into her wrinkled forehead, her eyes peeling in shock and her lips pinching together in absolute indignation.

Being asleep and having Tess resting against him had caused Dante to 'slide' along the back of the cough and to the side, making him eventually lie on his back lazily, oblivious to the change. His right arm was hanging off the edge of the sofa while the other was still lying over Tess' back. Tess had 'pancaked' on him, her cheek pressed against his abdomen while her chest was practically pressing on his crotch, as she was lying between his legs in a completely slothful manner. They were both sleeping for good and weren't aware of the hilarity of their position.

Magda however, did not appreciate it all and started shouting.

"What are you two doing? Wake up! Tess-get off him! What are you doing?" She barked, storming over to them and yanking the blanket off them.

The two of them were both so startled that they woke up abruptly with small shouts and flailing, tried to get up at the same time, just resulting in them both falling off the sofa and onto the floor.

"What is the meaning of this?" Magda snapped, furious and glaring at Tess.

"Grams-wha? What the hell happened?" Tess blurted. She'd fallen on the floor on her butt.

Madga looked like she was out of her mind with fury. She glared at Dante, like she felt it was his fault. "What have you been doing?" she snapped.

Dante recovered from his shock and sat up, rubbing his head. "We didn't do anything!"

"Jeez Grams!" Tess grumbled, pulling herself up onto the sofa. "We just fell asleep! What, is that a crime now?"

"You were _piled_ on each other!" Magda hissed, glaring at both, as if she was implying something bigger.

"Pffft, it's not like anything happened! That was just practice!" Dante scoffed, getting up and dusting his pants down. "Honestly, Tess, you could use the practice," he added, smirking at Tess slyly and then making a quick escape out the lounge, to avoid Magda's furious screaming at his reply. The old witch actually followed him a couple of steps, cursing and stopping at the doorway. That allowed Tess to also flee, making her escape through the kitchen's door leading out back. They met in the back yard of the boarding house later, glaring at each other for a couple of moments before dissolving into chuckles over the whole matter.

* * *

><p><strong>NOTE: <strong>This story is a throwback to the Omakes I used to write back for _Frail Equilibrium_, at the end of each chapter. I was happy that people appreciated them and it was a way for me to counter the serious writing work by writing a very silly little scene at the end. Some of those weren't very good, frankly, but some of them turned out to be about as good as the story itself and were appreciated by readers.

So this here little story is a thanks to the readers who appreciated those little stories enough to comment on them as much as they did on the actual story.


	7. Dust and Memories

**Title: **Dust and Memories**  
>Characters: <strong>Dante, Tess (OC).**  
>Word Count: <strong>2.896**  
>Summary:<strong> Dante and Tess happen upon the scene of their very first meeting: The apartment building from their teenage years and spontaneously, some memories come up.**  
>Warnings: <strong>Some mild language.**  
>Disclaimer:<strong> Devil May Cry and all related characters belong to Capcom. Tess Templar belongs to me.

* * *

><p>"I am starting to hate lizards!" Tess said emphatically as another Assault leapt at her. The redhead swept her arm in front of her, releasing an arc of fire. The whip streaked out and struck the demon reptile right in the chest, sending it careening backwards through the air and right into two of its brethren surrounding them.<p>

Dante scoffed slightly as he burst forward towards an approaching Assault. Easy as cake; step attack, stinger and _CRACK!_ The Assault's shield broke under the impact of Dante's attack, blasting it backwards from the force. _SHUNK!_ The Rebellion found its mark in the demon's gullet. Dante gripped the handle and swung the blade around, releasing the gutted demon into another Assault that had jumped at him from behind.

Dante smirked at his handiwork then looked over at Tess. The frustrated witch was beating an Assault by using a burst of flame to launch it into the air, then a whip of flame to yank it down and slam it to the ground. Even in the middle of battle he couldn't help his witty comments: "Aww come on Twig, you know you want one as a pet."

"_Pu~lease_! I've got a cat already! Everything else comes in second!" she replied. She launched a cheeky Assault backwards with a kick to the face. Her steel-lined boot heel made a hollow sound as it connected to the reptile's headgear before an eruption of fire shot out of the ground and juggled the shrieking Assault in midair, slowly cremating it alive.

The same pillar of fire knocked several Assaults away from her, screeching from the intense heat. With her trademark finesse she whipped around and used an explosive burst of fire to shatter the shields and headgear of two more Assaults, knocking them off their swift feet. The lizard demons may be hardy and resistant, but pitted against explosive, almost white-hot fire, they didn't last.

Dante turned Rebellion tip down into the ground and leaned on it with his arm resting on the cross-guard, giving Tess a faked sulk of disappointment.

"What's that supposed to mean Twig? Are you trying to say that _I_ come in second—to a cat?" he jested.

He ignored the demons around him as they attacked. All it took was a twitch—such as a duck of the head or tilt of the shoulder—to avoid their attacks and let their momentum carry them over and away from him. And then there were the ones that were a bit more persistent and ground-loving, the ones he wanted to have a little fun with. All it took was a quick draw and a few blasts from Ivory to put them out of their misery.

Tess stopped and turned around to face him, hands on her waist. She too ignored the demons for a moment—after, of course, roasting the ones directly around her with a plume of fire and the distinct sound and stench of charred flesh and scales.

"You're inferior to _my_ cat. After all he can do the dishes—among other things." Tess returned his gaze with a playful smirk. "Am I detecting jealousy towards my cat?"

"Hmph. That so?"

Dante grabbed Rebellion from the ground again and cut through an Assault that moved in between them. He walked up to her with an indignant expression.

"Well, there are _some things_ that your cat just can't do for you," he said, voice laced with innuendo.

She chuckled and unfazed by the comment, poked his chest with her finger. "I know, that's why I've got you to do all the heavy lifting," she said sweetly, then caused an explosion of fire right onto an Assault trying to sneak up behind Dante, blowing a hole into its chest as it flew backwards, while Dante just turned a sour face at her.

"You know, it's almost too easy to tease you. No wonder everyone thinks I'm your girlfriend-" she said, then paused, just to dissolve into giggles. "Oh man...I just remembered...that Goatling...remember that?"

Dante choked up a laugh. How could he ever forget that? When they were teens, a Goatling made the error of calling her his girlfriend, which ticked both of them off. No matter how one looked at it, it had been impossibly funny.

"Haha, yeah I remember that," he chuckled and then smirked teasingly. "But you know Twig, maybe they got a point, don't they?" he said, turning his gun at an Assault and shooting it in the face. He was almost at point-blank range, giving it a mouthful of bullets.

She returned the smirk with a sarcastic look. "Yeah, yeah, you and your wishful thinking," she said. She turned to the side and kicked an Assault right in the face, then used a lash of fire to bounce it right back at her.

"Always trying...to get in my pants!" she added, bringing her heel down on the exposed demon's head, smothering its face on the ground before setting it on fire.

Dante just continued to smile as the demon she burned shrieked in pain and the foul smell of burning scales and skin permeated the air. "Well, you can't blame me!"

He then turned to face a wave of Assaults charging at him and smirked. He dropped into a stance with his knees bent and after charging Rebellion with his demonic energy, swept his arm in front of him and sliced through several of them with a wave of energy. Then he took out Ebony and Ivory started firing off a barrage of bullets into remaining enemies that lunged at him.

Overall it was an easy battle for the two of them. Either of them could have taken the mob on by themselves—except the numbers might have been more overwhelming for Tess had she been alone, which was exactly why she'd called Dante for help. When the last Assault was felled, Tess breathed out, content, and dusted down her skirt and shirt.

"That wasn't so bad," she said as she combed some hair off her face. She cast her eyes about the former battlefield; moving around so much and chasing down the last of the agile demons made her lose her bearings a little. Where were they now? She noticed a familiar park gate. "Hmm? Oh this is familiar..."

Dante looked over at the park gates, realizing what she was talking about, "What? Hey, wait isn't that..."

Tess' eyes lit up. "It is! We're back in the old neighborhood! It's the park—we fought Chernobog in here."

He chuckled. "Yeah, I remember; two rookies up against Big Bad Frostie."

"And then _you_ nearly drowned, Dante" she said matter-of-factly.

"I know. Some scrawny little red head risked her life to save me," he replied with the same tone.

"And she caught a hell of a nasty little cold for her troubles," she chuckled and then looked down the street. "I wonder what's left of the old building..."

Dante's smirk faded, "Not much, I'd think..."

He wasn't sure how to talk about that subject around her. He'd never gone to see the old building in all his time living in the city. Halfway he'd avoided facing the site where he'd experienced something very close to his mother's murder, halfway he thought he could do without the inevitable sadness seeing it would've brought. The fact was that they had shared great times together there, back in their youth, but those fond memories were marred by the horrible incident that had happened there and resulted in her vanishing for ten years. He wasn't sure if she was ready to face the site of her grandmother's slaughter, where a demon had very nearly gobbled her up too—or worse. Hell, he wasn't sure if he wanted to go back there himself.

But Tess had other ideas. "Let's go take a look. I'm pretty sure that after ten years, I can look at that place and not think of nightmares," she said, tugging him by the sleeve.

He smiled with some relief and walked along with her. "Hey, if you end up with nightmares you can always run to my bed for comfort."

She gave him a quick smirk and elbowed him softly before shaking her head. They continued down the street, which looked all the more familiar as they went. She paused for a moment when they passed in front of the small store that had been the scene of their first joint demon encounter: One of the Madmen, as they had dubbed those poor humans, whose innate mental problems had been warped by the Underworld into something beyond psychology's comprehension. The result had been a veritable slaughterhouse they were too late to prevent. She still shrugged at the memory of the gruesome sight, the whole place soiled with blood and body parts of innocent victims. Now the store was nothing more than an empty space, weathered and worn down by time, with a 'For Sale' sign taped on the door. And it looked like it'd been there for quite a long time already.

Dante eyed it and then huffed. "Yeah, like they could ever sell that place. They're probably still telling horror stories about it."

"No kidding. I wonder if they're still talking about the asylum too," she said. She shrugged as they continued walking down the street. "I haven't thought of going to look, but Roy told me there's still a crater up there."

"Oh, you bet. After you left, the city chumps said it was an arson job that turned into a gas explosion. Like anybody'd believe that. I even had a crackjob in my office once, asking me to check it out. He said it was done by aliens. _Aliens!_" Dante said. He brought his arm up in amusement and Tess laughed.

Then he smugly draped his arm over Tess' shoulder as they walked down the street. "You know, it's funny, thinking about it. Those places are now haunting grounds for teenagers playing dares, trying to prove they got guts, hoping it'll net them chicks. If only they knew, huh?"

She scoffed and shook her head at the absurdity of the idea. "Boys will be boys..." she sighed, but she didn't brush his arm off her shoulders.

They finally reached the building, pausing right in front of it to see its condition. It was in much more derelict condition than Dante thought it would be. The demonic attack it had endured had left it badly damaged, for sure, but time had done worse. Very few windows had glass or shutters anymore and any sense of a door was simply nonexistent. The door-frame had warped and buckled a little. The crumbling facade was covered with graffiti and advertisement posters pasted over each other, while garbage was piled near the steps leading to the door. It looked almost foreign to them both. Foreign, but familiar like a friendly face.

"Wow...not much left, is there?" she said, looking up at it thoughtfully.

"Don't look like it. Pitiful. To think this was your home...well, mine too for a short time," he said, shrugging. "Hell, first place that _ever_ felt like home in years."

She smiled a bit and looked at him. "Really? It did?"

Realizing he let his guard down, he quickly tried to recant the fact. "Well...you know...Ah shut up, Twig," he said, looking away, annoyed.

She just giggled and covered her mouth with her hand. "To be honest...you made the place feel more like home to me too."

Then she boldly took a step up the stairs to the gaping door-frame. "Let's have a look inside..."

He smiled. "After you babe," he said and let her step ahead, then feeling a bit teasing, he added: "Hey, I wonder if your old dresser is still upstairs," he said meaningfully. Grinning, he jabbed her side teasingly. "Then again, I already have to live with one curse because of that."

She started laughing at the memory. "Yes, you were begging for that one to happen," she scoffed and then stepped inside the ruined lobby that bore very little memory of its former, welcoming self. Half the ceiling was gone, caved in and opening a hole to the floor above. The doorway to what had been the kitchen and lounge room was blocked by large chunks of debris. The stairway looked rather intact, the carpet covering it burnt and now almost black from stain. The small office across the door, that had been Roy's station, was strewn with fallen plaster, bricks and other materials from the walls. The exposed walls were now thick with dirt and a bit moldy with moisture. The smell of mildew filled the air.

Tess eyed the corner under the staircase, between the foreman's desk and the stair's curve, and Dante followed her gaze. That's where the two of them had huddled after the demon invasion tided over, until the shock of the brutal attack and her grandmother's murder had passed enough for her to manage. He noticed her shuddered, likely from remembering that moment. Back then she'd been surprised and moved that he'd been so unusually kind and stayed to comfort her.

"Certainly is worse for wear," Dante said as he looked away from there and over the place.

He looked at Tess to see how she fared, whether she was really able to endure seeing the building again. He was half-expecting her second sight to kick in and give her a fit.

Tess looked uneasy and folded her arms as though she felt cold, but seemed alright for the time being. She saw him looking at her. "Don't worry. Whatever remnants of demons or memories were here are long gone. What's left isn't strong enough to trigger something. This place is just dust and memories now. It can't hurt anyone," she said softly.

She looked at the doorway that had led into her grandmother's private quarters. Just from the little she could see through a half-open, rotting door, she could tell it was in shambles. She hesitated and Dante knew didn't want to go in there.

"And...Grams is likely still in the back yard," she said absently. "Right where Roy buried her. May she rest in peace at last."

She shrugged a little at that thought, gulping at the memory of finding Magda's body. "Was it...really as horrible as I remember?" she asked him.

_Frankly, Twig? It was worse. Hell, even I don't wanna remember that,_ he thought, holding back a frown at the memory of the butchered top half of the old witch's corpse, hanging from a noose, while the other half was strewn on the floor in a pool of blood, with guts hanging from her torso.

Despite himself, just as he had been so long ago, he reached over and put his hand on her shoulder. "Let's not dredge up that particular subject, Twig."

She smiled a little, somewhat sadly. "Yeah..." she muttered, then looked around. "Hey...remember before we went to beat the daylights out of Chax? I don't think I've ever been so scared."

He smirked, glad she changed the subject. "Yeah, so scared, you couldn't let go of me," he said with teasing suggestiveness.

She scoffed. "Oh that's precious," she snarked. "But it's true. You stayed. You didn't let me sink into helplessness. And you cheered me up..." she said and then motioned to leave through the door—exactly like she had back then.

Dante reached out and took hold of her arm, like back then, bringing her back to him. He shamelessly smirked as he pulled her close and leaned in to kiss her.

She had half-expected him to do that, a little deja-vu of the past, and then she raised her hand and pressed her finger on his lips, stopping him with a small smile.

"Haha, you sly man," she chuckled. "The same tricks don't work now, I'm not an impressionable little girl anymore."

He scoffed. "Aw, is that what I get for attempting some reminiscence?"

She giggled and gave him a small peck on the cheek and then pushed back and slipped away from him with a smirk.

He feigned offence, smirking and poked her a bit. "Fine, be that way."

She chuckled and hugged him. "I live in the present, Dante. Just the fact that we can still get together and go beat up demons like we used to _is _meaningful to me by itself, it doesn't need extras."

He smirked, a little taken aback from the sudden hug, but didn't question it, just put his arm around her shoulders in a similar gesture. "Well, maybe I just like to tease you."

"You always have," she chuckled, letting him go. "So...how about we call this a day, go get your payment and then go for a pizza?"

Dante smiled. In all honesty, Tess knew how to get on his good side without pretenses. She really did enjoy his company and appreciated his wit-especially when she could pit her own against his. Before he left the derelict lobby after her, he cast one last glance at it and agreed with her: This place was nothing but dust and memories now, some good, some bad, but all entirely harmless. This place had been a home to them both, but now it held nothing over them. He bid his last farewell to it and followed her outside.

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><p><strong>NOTE: <strong>After the end of _Frail Equilibrium_, some readers expressed curiosity as to what happened to the old building and whether either of the characters were ever going to return to it for one reason or another.

That got me thinking and this story piped up. I didn't want something dramatic, like memories of old, haunting that building and making it unpleasant to visit. Most of what occurred within its walls in the story were fun to write and fun to read. Readers have often told me they enjoyed the simplicity of the fact, the characters trying to get along in that old house. So I wanted this story to translate that; the sense that despite it being the site of an unspeakable horror, it still mostly kept its benign appeal to the characters, particularly because I am of the belief that of all material possessions, people bond with places they call home the most.


	8. Web of Lies

**Title:** Web of Lies**  
>Characters: <strong>Sparda, Nevan**  
>Word Count: <strong>2.265**  
>Summary:<strong> Nevan sees that the noble Dark Knight Sparda can be like all other deceitful demons, after all.**  
>Warnings: <strong>Slight Sparda/Nevan if you believe they actually had something going on.**  
>Disclaimer:<strong> Devil May Cry and all related characters belong to Capcom.

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><p><em>"Oh what a tangled web we weave, when first we practice to deceive."<em>  
>Sir Walter Scott.<p>

From his perch on the balcony, Sparda could see the vast expanse below him. The realm of demons opened before him with a seemingly limitless appearance. The castle mirrored one situated somewhere in the human world, which was still under the control of demons. A dark, thriving forest surrounded it from all sides, ending at the massive rock the castle was built upon, that rose over the hallow forest like an island. As far as his eye could see, there was nothing but the Underworld, nothing but a brilliant and riveting red sky. Everything was perfectly still; void of any kind of life other than an occasional demon messenger flying by. Behind him, the windows, narrow and tall with gilded, sleek metal bars over their crystal panes, reflected the vast expanse.

Then someone knocked on the heavy wooden doors of his room, the sound resonating down the hall along the walls. It jerked Sparda out of his sightless, skyward gaze as he stood at the balcony of the lavish room that was his personal quarters, where no other demon was allowed to enter on whim. Most demons knew that he might fly into a rage if they just barged in...And the last thing any demon wanted these days was to make the Dark Knight angry.

He sighed, lowering his gaze from the blood red skies in the distance, warped like a vortex of eternal fire, to his hands on the banister. He knew who it was and he had no way or excuse to avoid her. He did not respond right away, hesitant to confront her, but after a moment he finally he turned his head to the side and eyed the door.

"Come in," he said calmly.

Sparda's thoughts and feelings for his birthplace and all the creatures connected to him had tired him out. He felt torn now; the more time he spent in the human world, the more his mind was tormented with thoughts and opinions he never thought he would have. He had spent many a sleepless night contemplating these thoughts without being able to come to a firm decision. Secretly, he wished he could be somewhere far from here, distant from his kind. Perhaps it was a sense of alienation, of not being one of them anymore, but for now, he knew he had to deal with it.

Nevan smiled as she came in with her best light strut, pushing open the heavy door before her with a pleased expression, her long and rich red hair flowing in swaths down her shoulders to cover her breasts. Her flowing 'dress', made of shadows clinging to her body, trailed behind her like silk as she practically glided in. She always wanted to look her best for him.

"Sparda, dear," she said happily, approaching him. "Finally, you're back. I've missed you so, sugar…" She boldly went right up and took hold of his arm in hers, embracing it tightly.

"Mmmm, I missed you," she purred. "You were gone for quite a bit this time around. Did you miss me at all?"

"Yes, it has been long since I was away for this much," he said, breathing deeply to swallow his melancholy and drew a small smile at her."You could say that, yes. Did dullness get the best of you while I was gone?"

Nevan chuckled a little and shook her head. "Yes, it did. What could I do anyway, socialize? I messed around with some of our...hmm, _friends_, but all this stuff is dull and annoying without you around to laugh at them," she pouted. "I can't stand some of those brutes... And humans! Oh they're too easy to trick and play with, they're so weak."

"I share that feeling more than you'd think," he replied with an enigmatic tone. Sparda shifted his gaze to take in her features.

He reached up to her cheek with his fingers and rubbed her skin with the side of his index finger, sighing thoughtfully. It saddened Sparda to remember what he once treasured was exactly what he was starting to despise and knew that Nevan would soon be a part of it. He was torn about this. Nevan…for all the faults that he found in her now, she had been close to him when others did not dare. He knew it was a fascination rather than deep emotion but their long acquaintance was a solid one.

Nevan did not notice his expression; she just smiled at him and his caress. "None of them have your finesse or your manners. They all act like...like-ugh, nevermind!" She dismissed the notion with a dismissive shake of her hand. "It doesn't matter anymore, you're here now," she added, taking her hands to his face, caressing his cheeks and brushing some of his hair off his temple, quite tenderly. "Now tell me...what shall we do, now that you're here?"

For a brief instant, Sparda froze on the spot without knowing what to say, even though he had already been expecting that question. He always knew what he wanted…but not anymore. He couldn't even recognize his own mind. And he did not know what to answer to her now. Instead he wrapped his arms around her and leaned his head over her shoulder.

"_This_...will do just fine," he said. Part of him still wanted her, her presence and her conversation. But most of him didn't. Still, he cared enough about her to say nothing of what was on his mind.

Nevan was a bit surprised at that reaction and paused. He knew she surely realized this was...unlike him, in ways that she probably couldn't put her finger on. She must've figured out that something was wrong with him. Even he knew that something about was different about him; he had _changed_ somehow and he couldn't understand why. Obviously Nevan wouldn't, either.

"Sparda..." she said, more quietly now, almost caring. "What's the matter, darling? Is something troubling you?" She gently put her hands around his back.

Sparda clenched his jaw quietly. He knew there were rumors flying about the Underworld that she undoubtedly must have heard some time: That the Dark Prince, Mundus himself, had reasons to distrust Sparda. That Sparda was being scrutinized and doubted. That he spent too much time in the human world with nobody really knowing what he was doing. Sparda knew that demons coveting his position as one of Mundus' champions circulated them feverishly and that many wanted to believe them, but he wasn't sure what Nevan thought. She always talked about how he was the most loyal of Mundus' vassals. He was something of an ideal for the rest-if demons ever adhered to ideals. So far he'd kept his private thoughts from everybody but he wasn't sure how long that could last before someone suspected.

"No," he calmly answered. He briefly smiled at her. "I am simply... not in the best state of mind right now." He paused and sighed. He couldn't hide forever. But until Sparda had found his answers within himself—what it was that he was feeling, how he viewed his very world and more importantly, what he believed and whose side he was on…he needed to keep it to himself.

"Surely all I need is some rest. Then I will be fine," he added after the pause, sounding confident.

Nevan wasn't very convinced. "You do sound...worn, dear Sparda," she said. There was a slight hint of reluctance, and she pulled away from him to look him up and down. He looked same as always; Sparda often concealed his true, Dark Knight appearance under a subtle, even frail-looking human guise. Most demons detested this kind of disguise, especially the human forms. They looked down at them just as much as they did to humans, despite how practical these forms often were. But Nevan had taken after his habit and her own form most of the time was human-like, alluring, sensual and retaining her inhuman yet desirable paleness. Sparda preferred a more subtle form, a virile man in his primes with silver-like hair and noble features. Nevan always said she found him extremely handsome, either way.

"I suppose I can help you relax and rest—in any way _you_ want, that is, it doesn't matter," she added before he could think she was necessarily suggesting something lewd.

He was glad she did; Sparda wasn't always about carnal pleasures. More often than not, he actually craved conversation and she gladly obliged. But that observant nature of this courtesan demon might actually end up giving him away if he wasn't careful. She might manage to get the slightest of hints out of him that something was not quite right, that he was conflicted.

Surely enough, she looked him straight in the eye with a curious gaze. "You aren't lying to me...are you?" she whispered calmly.

He frowned at the accusation, especially since from his point of view, he was merely hiding things which he knew would depress her. Perhaps even damage a part of her that she was not aware that even existed. He never thought he'd think that way, being a demon, but lo and behold, already it had become part of who he was. No one could say that Nevan couldn't feel pain; but what he could say might be the kind that could not be healed. Of course he'd never talk about this to her. Nevan also had pride and to insinuate that she might have what could be defined as 'human emotions' would send her in a rage. He'd been furious to realize that himself, before he grew to accept them.

"I have _never_ lied to you and never will," he sharply said. There was plenty he could've added but left it at that. But perhaps it was already too late.

_She's already suspicious of me. Is it that obvious that I…don't know who I am anymore? Perhaps there's no way I can talk myself out of this,_ he thought, dreading a future he did not want to come-_yet_.

But she smiled, looking relieved.

"Very well," she said with a touch of tease. "I will believe you—this time," she said, touching his nose with her finger. "You've been almost good to me all this time, but like the naughty boy you are, you've given me trouble too, Mr. Handsome Knight. Now, come on inside." Nevan tugged at his arm, drawing him along with her. I'll get you your favorite drink and sing for you, that serenade you always enjoy. I remember you once said it puts your mind at ease," she said with what sounded like an almost human sincerity.

Sparda took a deep breath, following Nevan inside. He was far more relieved than her. Either he was mistaken and she could not fathom the extent of his torment…or she knew very well but let him be.

"Alright," he said. "Perhaps later… we may do something _you_ want, as well."

Sparda regretted the words the instant they left his mouth, but he could not recant for fear of arousing her suspicion. Somehow, Nevan was much less of a demon in his eyes than others of their kind. She was somewhat dear to him, after all. Then he did not feel that regretful anymore. Again, he smiled at her.

"Perhaps I really did miss you…a bit," he said half seriously, but making it distinct that he was teasing her more than anything.

These memories were all Nevan had to mull over as she sat alone in the darkness of the cavern, sealed away from the world—both of men and of demons. In the darkness of the tower of Temen-Ni-Gru she relived that day in her thoughts. Nothing but her shadows kept her company and the long hours drew out in her loneliness. She had lost track of time; how long had she been there? She sat in the middle of a sunken opera room, in the bowels of a buried tower, where she once entertained demons with her singing and sensual dances. Now it lay empty with the hundreds of ever-burning candles flickering dully in the subterranean air.

Nevan, crumbled on the floor rather pitifully, with her shadow-woven dress piled around her legs, ground her teeth while the intolerable feeling caught her breath in her throat. She was angry, furious in fact, at him. She was furious and had he been there she would have very well clawed his eyes out of his face, Dark Knight or not. She balled her fists so tightly that her nails dug into her palms, drawing blood through her clenched fingers. She was angry and yet…impossibly sad. She couldn't comprehend exactly why she ought to be sad and worse of all, she did not know what to do with herself. She was not accustomed to feeling sadness—or feeling anything at all.

"You…lied to me…darling…" she murmured. "You lied to me and now you're gone. You lied…to everyone."

Sparda had turned his back on all of them, even his own lord and gone and sided with those despicable, horrid monkeys that he so loved. She hated humans with a passion, even more so now that they had taken her beloved Sparda from her. The idea that he put them above her made her blood boil. She tilted her head back towards the gray and empty ceiling of the cavern and screamed with rage and betrayal. She was furious but…how could she bring herself to completely hate him?

* * *

><p><strong>NOTE: <strong>I always was quite inclined to the idea that Nevan really had something for Sparda. Her attitude to Dante implied as much and I sort of read that as a mix of severe anger and fond nostalgia, something she couldn't quite settle on. Of course, her being a demon and of such a deceptive kind, it would probably be wrong to charge her with emotions that would probably be defined as thoroughly human.

However, it did make a root for this very interesting story and I did always want to explore a bit of Sparda and his mindset concerning his eventual change.


	9. Turn Back the Clock

**Title:** Turn Back the Clock**  
>Characters:<strong> Vergil, Dante**  
>Word Count:<strong> 2.672**  
>Summary:<strong> Vergil recalls some better times of his life with Dante.**  
>Warnings: <strong>Set before _Crossfire_. Contains frame narrative.**  
>Disclaimer:<strong> Devil May Cry and all related characters belong to Capcom.

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><p>Vergil had been busy with the manuscript for some time now. Ever since the witch he'd enslaved brought it to him, he'd found it to be a fascinating piece of information. Most of it was written in a forgotten language and he allowed himself the satisfaction of deciphering it. But he'd been working on it enough to let out a small yawn while studying its interesting contents. He glanced up from his work to Tess, who had withdrawn to a small stone seat under a window on the far side of the modest library room. He had ordered her to stay in case he needed her to bring him some other manuscript from the coven's archives or assist him with translating some wiccan code. She'd taken advantage of the situation to rest, huddled close to a heater, which surprisingly <em>actually worked<em>; a rare occurrence in the ancient castle. Even he was grateful for that, having been in enough grand castles that were colder than the poles.

He watched her briefly; she'd sneaked a pillow off one of the study sofas and had managed to get quite comfortable there. She had crossed her arms over the ledge of the window, while looking out and rested her chin on her arms. She seemed to have withdrawn away from the horror of her situation and away from him. She looked out the window, watching the rain starting to die off into a clearer sky. Suddenly she glanced back over her shoulder and caught him looking. Immediately she looked away and back outside. He didn't care; she could think whatever she wanted of him.

Resuming his work, Vergil sat back briefly to flex his neck thoughtfully. He was sitting at one of the desks in the room and had been busy making some notes about a certain section of the manuscript. She'd learned fast not to question what he was doing and even when she knew, she rarely protested visibly. He absently thought to himself that her will might probably be breaking at last, after nearly a year. Then he glanced at her again when she suddenly started to hum softly; it sounded like a kind of lullaby and he lifted his pen from the paper, scrutinizing her.

_Is that...?_ he promptly thought, blinking as if to question his own ears. That tune sounded oddly familiar.

In fact, it nearly made him uncomfortable.

She didn't seem to realize neither his reaction, nor that she was humming loud enough to be heard all the way across the large room. Vergil frowned. She couldn't have known what she was humming; a tune very closely associated to something Vergil had associated with his childhood. It brought familiar memories to him, the few remaining years he spent with Dante after their mother's death. He gulped. That lullaby brought back feelings that he detested because they were _too human_ for his liking. They could be called happier memories, but Vergil had forgone all such associations with him.

Yet inklings of the past persisted.

Without meaning to, driven from the weather and her humming, he recalled something from the last days he and Dante had spent as actual brothers, when they had only each other to think of and often got unwanted visits from demons.

It was one of those situations, when they'd just gone through a pack of demons-_a lot_ of them. It was no hard battle for the twins, even though they were hardly fourteen at the time. Vergil had found a depository of texts related to demonic knowledge. Back then the texts were still mere references and recordings of a tower constructed for purposes that related to demons. He wouldn't realize that these were mentions of the Temen-Ni-Gru until much later.

Vergil couldn't remember the particulars of the actual battle; it was the aftermath that had stayed with him the most.

"Hey...Vergil," Dante said suddenly to his twin. "Are we gonna spend all day long doing this? It's gettin' dull!"

He kicked a scrap of demonic lizard scales on the floor from their battle and looked over at Vergil, who was mulling over the findings of this latest expedition of theirs. Vergil was too busy poring over the books to care about his twin's impatience. It didn't help that, although he allowed Dante to join him, he never really told his brother what he was searching for.

"Maybe," Vergil responded as he stood by the table. He fumbled with a small pile of old and decrepit books and picked one up, read the title and put it down and looked for another.

"This is important, Dante. But maybe if I didn't have to listen to your whining we could take a break in a while," he went on. Finally he found the specific book he wanted to look into and flipped through the worn pages slowly and carefully, lest it crumble in his hands.

Dante just sulked a little and leaned his back against the wall behind him with a frown and folded his arms. Vergil heard him muttering about how he wished he'd brought his coat with him instead of the cheap leather jacket. Alas, Vergil had convinced him it was time he washed that almost tattered red thing. He probably ought to buy a new one. Dante stared at the floor, littered with blood and scales of demonic lizards. Even while he perused the book, Vergil could see from the corner of his eye that he was upset and Vergil's behavior was pissing him off even more.

Vergil read part of a page of the book in hand and after a short moment he looked over at Dante briefly and closed the book, huffing.

"I can hear your frustration from here," he coolly said. "What's wrong this time, hm?"

Dante scoffed. "What's it to ya, bro?" he said smugly. "Just getting in the way of your research, ain't it? If I bother you so much, I can just step outside and let you knock yourself out."

"Don't be condescending," responded with a sigh. "It makes you sound more childish than usual. Just say it instead of throwing a tantrum later."

Dante just rolled his eyes. "Why do I have to tell you? I thought that machine you've got for a brain would've deduced it already," he said with a smirk. "Or do I have to tell you everything?"

Vergil just shook his head at Dante's sarcasm, ignoring it. But he knew exactly what all this was about. A machine...that was exactly what Dante thought of him, sometimes, Vergil knew as much. Dante's habit of letting his emotions run away with his common sense was beginning to turn from a foolish habit into a serious problem.

"Fine," he abruptly said, opening the book again and turning to the table with his back turned at Dante. "Go be a child elsewhere like you want to, then."

He knew that Dante wanted to say something (and he had a good idea what) and he would either blurt it out childishly or bottle it up like he always did.

Dante got off his spot on the wall and shoved his hands in his pockets. "Fine by me. Just don't take all day. I've got better stuff to do," he said and motioned to leave.

"Such an attention seeker, like a child..." Vergil muttered under his breath.

But Dante stopped in his tracks right at the door, sighed and his shoulders drooped.

"You really don't remember what today is, do you?" he said quietly.

Vergil looked over his shoulder briefly with a meaningful gaze, resuming to the worn book and turned the page. "Perfectly aware of the date, yes. Why?"

Vergil knew that his twin was upset because he seemed to forget what day it was. He also thought that Dante was a bit was jealous of his ability to compose himself, something he couldn't do. He would never admit to either case, of course and Vergil knew that too.

"The date..." Dante echoed sarcastically and turned around. "And that date means nothing at all to you?" he said, starting to sound angry.

Vergil couldn't ignore him any longer and closed the book, facing his brother.

"It means a lot, Dante. I am in grief just as much as you are, but I don't let it get to my head. Enough time has passed to move on... and we aren't in the clear. Worse things will come for us eventually and we should be ready."

Neither of them was never the same after what had happened to their mother, but unlike Dante, he had chose to bury his weaknesses and everything that made him feel vulnerable.

Dante tightened his fists, seething with anger...that was fueled by grief. "And you're saying we can't take one day to show some proper respect? Mom died to _save_ us both, remember? We're standing here because she died!"

It was just as he had expected; Dante was simply grieving over their mother, on the anniversary of her death.

"Yes… I remember..."

Vergil paused and looked away briefly, then stared at Dante, not with a cold stare, but a concerned frown.

"I think about it every day and I blame ourselves for it. She died not just because she saved us, but also because _we_ failed to protect her as well. Have you considered that?"

His face turned from concern to an almost angry expression. "It was your fault as much as it was mine. You're much too emotional and it will keep on hurting the more you think about it. I don't waste time complaining about it. I try to move forward. I suggest you do the same, or I might just leave you behind."

"You-!" Dante blurted, looking like was about to storm up to Vergil and punch him in the face...but he didn't. It seemed like the force of Vergil's statement had hit him hard enough to make him back down. Despite his hot-headed attitude and his stubbornness, Dante knew deep down that had it not been for their weakness she might've lived. Looking back, Vergil now realized that the statement of leaving him behind might've been too cruel to say like that.

"I still don't see why you can't just...even pretend that it bothers you or that you remember! You've had me thinking you don't care! And this...this whole acting superior bullshit? Think you're dad or something?"

Vergil paused in silence for a moment. He watched Dante pant angrily, looking somewhat amazed at his own outburst. Dante swallowed hard to choke the need to break down. Vergil shook his head a little at the rant. There was no denying that he agreed; he knew his younger twin felt like he carried the burden of this sorrow on his own.

"At least one of us is trying to," he calmly sad, in a somewhat grieving tone. "We're his only legacy."

"I can't _not_ think about it, dammit!" Dante blurted. "I can't think about it and not get pissed off! _You're_ pissing me off! You look like you don't give a damn!"

Vergil smirked with some reserved sadness in response, shaking his head.

"Are you looking for an apology, Dante? Come now, don't make me embarrass myself. I suppose it can't be helped that you'd still feel anger to this day. I hope you're glad you got me to admit that I feel the same as you do," he went on, and uncomfortably rubbed the back of his own neck briefly, pausing, and then he sighed again.

No matter what he said, Vergil still felt the need to comfort Dante, as he had done for the past decade of their lives. "But fine. I'm... sorry. Now can we get over this subject?"

Dante seemed more embarrassed at the whole thing than Vergil and he actually looked away with a regretful expression. "Y-yeah, whatever," he said softly. "I'm...sorry I went off like that. It just...it really bothered me."

Vergil stared at him for a moment before resuming his research. "Good then," he said, taking the book again into his hands and parting its pages once more. "I'm glad you're seeing reason."

"Yeah..." Dante sighed, looking away awkwardly. He felt incredibly bad about making such a spectacle. "But...I'm still gonna go...you know," he said meaningfully.

Vergil knew he meant to visit their mother's humble tomb where he wanted to pay respects. Briefly he thought of going as well, but the memory was still churning in him quite clearly to want to revisit so closely.

"Don't take too long," he said, briefly looking over at him as he resumed reading.

"Yeah...sure. I'll...I'll wait till you're done, I guess," he said, awkwardly. "I'll just sit outside, ok?"

Vergil closed his eyes for a moment. Dante...ever the emotional child, to a fault really. "I'm not going, Dante," he calmly said. "I'm coping with it my way."

Dante looked at him silently for a moment and just nodded. "Alright. I'll...see you later at home, alright?"

He gave Vergil a boyish look, an expression that barely contained the amount of sincere affection Dante had for his brother. They could squabble and fight all day but Dante still adored him. That kind of look gave Vergil mixed feelings…feelings he wanted to suppress.

"Fine," he responded with a sigh. "You might as well get food while you're at it as well," he said, closing the book and clicking his tongue, not finding exactly what he wanted inside and picked up a different one that he had previously ignored.

"Sure, no problem," Dante said with a casual shrug. "And I'll remember this time...no onions for you," he added with a small smirk before he paced out the door.

Vergil kept reading the book quietly, but even as he read, his mind was not completely at ease as he had made it seem.

_This isn't the first time he acts this way... It just seems that no matter what I say he won't mature fast enough,_ he thought, and paused, staring into blank space.

_These books aren't useful enough. I have to find another library at a different place. And these arguments with him are slowing me down. This won't do, I can't take him with me anymore. _

This idea made him think about how Dante would take it. No doubt he'd be devastated and angry if Vergil just abandoned him, but perhaps that would be the best way to protect him as well. If living together made them targets, perhaps parting ways would confuse demons...and keep Dante out of the research for demonic powers that Vergil was conducting.

And indeed...soon afterwards, Vergil simply left, leaving Dante behind in order to pursue his increasing interest in the Temen-Ni-Gru and the importance it had in their father's life.

He was snapped out of his reminiscing when he realized that Tess had stopped humming.

From her position near the window, she had looked over and had this faintly amazed look on her face. She was probably shocked he'd zoned out. She looked hesitant, as though she didn't know whether she ought to try interrupting his thoughts, but still stared at him.

He frowned, not immediately staring at her, feeling ridiculously awkward. Aware of the silence, he looked over at her curiously.

"Where did you hear that?" he asked, not sure if he really wanted to ask or if he had just composed it unconsciously.

She almost jumped. "Wha—oh, the song?" she blurted. She looked taken aback from the sudden _calm_ address. She'd expected to be snapped at. "I—I have no idea. It just popped into my head," she explained.

"Really," he said, half-inquiring. He sighed, realizing that it was her second sight, tuning in to his memories despite herself. For a moment he felt like punishing her, but a puzzling feeling kept him from doing so. He just ignored her again, leaning forward from his seat again and tried to resume what he was doing before spacing out.

He had to drown out that nostalgic feeling.

* * *

><p><strong>NOTE: <strong>My usual problems with writing Vergil aside, I don't think he was always prone to rejecting human emotion as he is when we meet him in the games. I'd like to believe that for some time he held on to his humanity a bit better than he did later and maintained a better contact with Dante that way.

So I wrote this sortie into that perspective, of Vergil's gradual loss of interest in his humanity, which wasn't serving him well on the long run. It's something where I believe he and Dante diverged the most: Vergil thought humanity and the emotions is carries is nothing but a burden on his way to power, while Dante finds it a source of strength to carry on and a guideline to live by, especially because of his mother's sacrifice to let them both live. They're both trying to honor that sacrifice, they just have different interpretations of it.


	10. Bad Calculations

**Title:** Bad Calculations**  
>Characters:<strong> Lady, Tess (OC).**  
>Word Count:<strong> 2.646**  
>Summary:<strong> Tess and Lady find points of connection between them on the job; two human women wading in a sea of demons can be friends and complain together...about slime.**  
>Warnings:<strong> Warning for a few squeamish moments.**  
>Disclaimer:<strong> Devil May Cry and all related characters belong to Capcom. Tess Templar belongs to me.

* * *

><p>The silence in that office was awkward for both the women left waiting in it. Tess bit her lip a little, not sure what to do. Just seconds ago, Dante left both Lady and her suddenly to 'take care' of a job that turned up, right nearby. Tess had been there to give him his share of the job they did jointly two days ago and Lady had stepped in, interrupting their conversation. Tess had barely introduced herself when Dante's phone rang, he answered and the next thing both women knew, he was out the door, telling them to get 'get to know each other' with a chuckle. Lady hadn't even had the time to ask him what job it was before he was out of the door.<p>

Tess recalled Trish mentioning Lady to her in an off-the-cuff way, along with a mention that Dante owed her money. She'd heard something of the way Trish and Lady met and figured Dante wanted to avoid a repeat of that fiasco. But judging by her expression, both women were surprised at each other. Tess absently wondered if Dante had gotten a weird habit of 'collecting' women in the ten years she'd been gone. Or maybe he had more charm than she gave him credit for. For a moment Tess had been confused by her appearance and thought she was a 'hired girl' which would've made her feel _really_ awkward, but then Dante mercifully mentioned she was a 'sort of' partner.

And now Dante had left them in the wind –so to speak—and expected them to deal with each other. Tess cringed; she was never good at small-talk and wasn't really interested in this woman. If she was in the demon-hunting business, Tess was pretty certain that she looked like looked like a lightweight rookie compared to her. Lady had pretty much barged into Dante's office, talking about money he owed her –not surprising in itself— carrying a rocket launcher over her shoulder and several guns in holsters on her person; added to that, her provocative clothing and manners, had had taken Tess by complete surprise.

She was standing idly by the desk, where she'd been while talking to Dante, looking back at Lady, who now stood by the couch. Neither found anything to say other than stare at each other awkwardly. Tess was sure Dante was being sarcastic when he said they should get to know each other. He said he'd be back soon, but she knew what his idea of 'soon' was vague at best.

Trying desperately to find some way to end this awkward silence, she leaned her pelvis against the desk and pressed her hands on its surface, resting against it. She sighed quietly, exasperated, trying to figure out what to do.

"You're right, he's a complete tosser," Lady scoffed at the sigh, propping her rocket launcher down against the sofa. "Always finding excuses to get away from me when I come asking for the money he owes me," she went on. She shifted her weight onto one leg with a hand on her waist, looking at Tess, as if trying to decipher what she was dealing with.

Tess chuckled despite herself. "I think he's capable of finding excuses to avoid anything. I've given up trying to talk to him, I just guilt-trip or threaten him when I need his help," she added, shaking her head. "I heard from Trish that you're a demon hunter too. Been doing it for long?" she spontaneously asked. She was relieved they weren't quiet anymore!

"Yeah," Lady sighed, facing the red-head as she propped herself against the arm of the sofa with her buttocks, crossing her arms. "Not sure how long that _goofball_ has been doing it but I was already a demon hunter before I met him. And what do _you_ do? You don't look like the typical merc," she said, tilting her head a bit and eying the redhead up a bit better, eyes concealed behind her orange-tinted sunglasses.

"He was already neck-deep into it when I met him-we were teenagers," Tess admitted with a smirk, still staring at her, musing Lady's absurdly open coat. "In fact I think I should blame him for dragging me in the fad," she joked.

She stretched her arms over her head, linking her fingers and flexing. "I'm a 'jack of all trades' I suppose; a witch," she said, watching Lady carefully for her reaction. Not everyone was comfortable with wiccans…or believed they existed. "Sure, I work differently than Dante and Trish but…hey, whatever works, right? Although I'm stuck dealing with ghosts, fay and-Actually, I deal with anything that fits under the 'supernatural' list."

"Really?" Lady asked, raising an eyebrow, sounding reluctant to believe her. "So you practice…_magic_? What kind?"

Tess sensed the caution in her tone. "The _boring_ kind, I guess," the witch admitted with a chuckle. "I'm not great with fancy-pancy stuff like conjuring or transforming stuff. I'm better at curses and setting things on fire." She chuckled. "Ask Dante, at some point he used to call me 'Mindless Pyromaniac'."

"Well, I stop you from scorching his ass every now and then," Lady scoffed. Just as she was about to say something else the phone rang. Tess looked at it, then back at Lady before it rang again. Lady pulled herself off the sofa arm and reluctantly picked it up with a sigh.

"Devil May Cry," she awkwardly said. Lady raised an eyebrow and even Tess could hear the person on the other line talking loudly. They stuttered and weren't very comprehensible.

"O-okay, calm down, just tell me the address," she blurted eventually and nodded before putting the receiver back down, sighing."Well, looks like I have to take care of this for the idiot," she said. She picked up her rocket launcher and headed for the door.

"Wait, I'll come along," Tess said as Lady headed for the door. "Better than staying in Dante's office." She following her and eying the rocket launcher. "You know, I kept wondering...you really _do_ use this thing, right? How on earth do you carry it around, it looks so bloody heavy!"

"It is," Lady replied with a grin. She held it by the strap and heaved it around her shoulder, almost effortlessly. "I go to the gym a lot." She smirked at the red-head, chuckling probably because Tess looked so frail compared to her.

Lady was neither thick, nor blatantly muscular, but she did have broad shoulders and whenever she flexed any of her limbs, they were accentuated enough to tell she was fit and worked out often. Tess was painfully aware that she almost looked like a shrimp compared to her and mentally sighed in wonder at how even other women were taller than her. Well, at least she had rounder thighs…

Lady opened the door and walked out to a brand new looking motorcycle parked ahead of Dante's. It was larger than his and it looked like it had about as much pulling power as an SUV. She gracefully got on it, looking over at Tess.

"Hey don't mope," she said. "In this kinda business you need the muscle. Well don't just stand there, hop on. Unless you got a broom—"

Tess groaned. "Please don't do broomstick jokes. I've heard all of them. Twice."

Lady paused and blinked at her. "Does it really get that bad?"

"You have no idea," Tess huffed.

"Ah well, hop on!" Lady said and patted the back of the bike. "It's better than running!"

Tess bore Lady's jibes stoically; after all, that was how other mercenaries always seemed to deal with her, mistaking her small stature for weakness. Yes, she lacked overwhelming physical strength, but it wouldn't do _her_ any good, anyway.

"I wish I had more time to work out," Tess sighed, getting on the bike behind lady. "I got a job besides this mercenary stuff...and when I'm not working, I'm exorcising ancient piles of ectoplasm that missed the memo about being dead. I usually end up needing flexibility rather than strength," she said awkwardly.

As she got on the bike, Lady glanced down at her shifting her skirt a little so that it wouldn't get caught anywhere. Tess wanted to grin; her legs showed from the slits of her skirt, slender yet toned, with firm muscular structure on the calves and shins. Absently she wondered if lady found her skirt was just not cut for combat. Then again, she had an absurdly open shirt on that was a bit slutty...for Tess' standards anyway, but she wouldn't say that out loud. 'Each to his own' was her philosophy.

"But, uh, if your workout got you those boobs, I'm interested," she joked. "Heck, if I had anything near yours I'd be showing them off too," she added under her breath.

"Hahaha!" Lady blurted at the remark, suddenly hitting the ignition pedal with her heel as she pulled up a bit to hit it hard enough, causing the engine to roar loudly. "Hold on, but don't get too handsy!" she said over the revving of the engine.

Tess did as told, wrapping her arms around Lady's waist, looking a bit worried as the bike drove off. "I'm never going to get used to motorcycles around here," she muttered a bit woefully.

"Been on Dante's bike, huh?" Lady chuckled.

"An experience I hope to _never_, ever relive! I'll take demonic spiders with rabies over another ride on Dante's motorcycle, thank you very much," Tess groaned, making Lady laugh again.

After a drive that was somewhat longer than Tess would've liked, they reached the location indicated from the caller and seeing the beast ahead, Lady suddenly hit the brakes, turning the bike, It skid along a bit and stopped in place with its side facing the monster ten meters away from them, between two buildings. Both women stared up at it with slightly gaping mouths.

"What the hell _is_ that?" Lady said. She put one foot on the ground and raised her sunglasses a little in awe.

It was a giant, worm-like creature, with a huge, smooth-looking body in the color of dirty rust with lighter piebald patches. It was fleshy and fat, with a thinner tail and when it reared up its head a little, it revealed a circular, twitching mouth with rows upon rows of triangular teeth in varying lengths, all of them razor sharp. There was no sign of eyes of any kind and it let weird noises, like growling or constant, low belching. It seemed to exhale a sickening-looking haze. A couple of dead dogs and what may have been humans littered the street, as if the asphyxiating haze from the worm had killed them.

"Ugh, gross," Tess said with a nervous chuckle. "I'm not sure, but I think that's a _Hell Slug_. I've never actually seen one up close like this before, but I know about them. They're not bright but they are a handful. It must've burrowed its way here somehow. It doesn't look like it's puked out any spawn; those things can get everywhere," she added, getting off the bike. "Maybe you _will_ need some help with this; bugs don't like fire, no matter the size."

"Huh, alright!" Lady grinned as she got off the bike as well, pulling out the rocket launcher. "Hey, I got an idea, why don't you imbue it with fire? Can you do that? Maybe we can kill this thing in one shot!" she said, tapping her rocket launcher.

"Of course I can, I just don't know if that's a good idea," Tess said. She looked a little skeptical. "I think my familiar mentioned something about these things that I had to remember before charging in..." she muttered, screwing her eyes up.

The Hell Slug seemed to have realized they were there because it started to slowly turn towards them, its size restricting its movements to a crawl.

"Crap—it's heading towards us," Lady hissed. "Come on, hurry up! Or you wanna be eaten?"

"Gah, okay!" Tess blurted, putting her hands on the rocket launcher and muttering a quick incantation.

The shaft of the rocket launcher sparked and started glowing hotly with a vibrant red aura. "There, it's done. Use it soon or it'll backfire."

"Sweet—now stand back!"

Lady flexed her legs, gripping on the rocket launcher and aiming carefully. Tess backed off a little, but she still looked uncertain about Lady's confidence. Just about as Lady was pressing the trigger, Tess let a startled gasp.

"W-wait, I remembered! That thing—it'll—!" she blurted, trying to stop Lady, but it was too late.

Lady fired the rocket, nearly losing her balance with the recoil of the blast which was much stronger and louder than she had ever experienced. The Hell Slug still crawled, rushing at the two women as the rocket went straight into its mouth. It almost immediately stopped, trying to cough it out and a few seconds after it bulged for a moment before _exploding_ violently with a screech, coating the road, buildings and everything in a small radius with slime and entrails—Tess and Lady included.

The explosion had been so sudden they didn't even move, Lady wincing only at the slime splattering all over her. She stood there, covered with the disgusting fluids dripping from all over her.

"Well, that was stupid," Lady blurted. She lowered her rocket launcher, coughing and spitting a bit of slime that had gotten into her mouth.

With her warning gone unheard, Tess had immediately covered her face with her arms as the Hell Slug exploded. She now coughed as well, spitting and hissing. "Ack...I tried to warn you..." she groaned, looking down at herself in disgust. "These things...they tend to explode. _Uuuugh_...slime. I _hate_ slime!"

"Yeah, well," Lady sighed, coughing. She whipped her hands to the side trying to get slime off them before taking her sunglasses off. "At least we got the damn thing."

"Still...this is so gross," Tess groaned, whipping her hands too and then scooping chunks of it off her face and chest. "Man, I've been slimed before but never this badly...this is just..._uuugh_!" she scoffed.

Lady stared at Tess all mad at the slime rather than the idea of nearly being eaten by a gigantic demon slug, while she wasn't as annoyed and drew a smirk. She hadn't been this amused at a demon hunt in years and it showed, chuckling as she was while trying to wipe some of the bigger pieces of gunk off her.

Tess smirked at her. "Don't laugh too soon sweetie, you wait till this slime gives you a big fat rash," she said, shaking slime and goop off her skirt and shirt. "I wish we'd dragged Dante to this one instead, I'd love to see what he'd spout if he got covered in gunk."

"Hah—probably something along the lines of 'now we got an excuse to take a bath together'," Lady laughed, putting the rocket launcher on the ground and started scraping all the goop off her arms and torso with her hands, tossing it at the ground.

Tess chuckled. "You're right, that's probably what he would say and of course, his idea would be less washing and more of something out of a bad porno," she joked.

While they tried to get most of the gunk off them, a resounding laugh irritated them to announce Dante's arrival at the scene. "Haha, what do we have here?" he chuckled, walking up to them casually, avoiding pools of slime on the street. "Having fun ladies? I don't think demon jelly suits either of you!"

Tess and Lady looked at each other with the same disdainful looks. _There he goes again_, they thought.

He kept smirking as he put his hands to his waist, looking at them and laughing. "Look at you two, you need a bath—perfect excuse to get to know each other like that-"

He was interrupted by a blob of slime hitting him in the face as Tess laughed. "Shut up, you," she said, having thrown a piece of slime she pulled off her shirt.

Lady smirked at her, lifting her rocket launcher. "Wanna kill him first, then take a bath? We won't have to worry about getting blood all over us."

Tess smirked back. "I like that idea," she said. She rubbed her hands a little before igniting some fire at her fingertips , while Dante wiped the slime off his face, chuckling a little nervously, but starting to back off slowly.

* * *

><p><strong>NOTES: <strong>I'm definitely not Lady's biggest fan. I was quite iffy with her characterization in DMC3 (the whole bitchy attitude and the expectation that we'd feel sorry for her or sympathize in the end...just didn't work for me) and I loathe _her appearance_ in DMC4 but other than that, I can respect her as an intrinsic character of the series. She's the human measure against Dante and Trish' demonic abilities and I really like that. It's part of the reason I decided that for all her skills and witchcraft, Tess had to be infallibly human and mortal.

For that reason I particularly like the idea of the two of them developing some connection due to being human in the same business of demon hunting that Dante is.

This particular story takes advantage of a running gag I have for any time I write combat and fantasy settings. I never got to use it as much as I'd wanted in my DMC fanfics because it was..._too _comedic. I've joked around with it since the days of _Frail Equilibrium_ but I played down a little: I never imagine that demons die 'cleanly'. I always expect there to be some really big mess left behind and I sometimes feel the games cheat us of many glorious opportunities to have a sheer bloody or slimy mess after killing demons. I also reject the notion that a hero should get out of a fight with his clothes as pristine as first. DMC1 and 3 sort of had the idea right in some places but I really think it'd be more along the themes of corruption and foulness that demons beget, to have them leave a horrible mess after they die.

Like explode in a shower of guts and slime that covers everything around them! :D


	11. Distance Will Not Betray

**Title:** Distance Will Not Betray**  
>Characters: <strong>Dante, Tess (OC).**  
>Word Count:<strong> 3.977**  
>Summary:<strong> It's been a few years since their parting. Tess and Dante contemplate what this distance means for the two of them.**  
>Warnings:<strong> Mild to strong language.**  
>Disclaimer:<strong> Devil May Cry and all related characters belong to Capcom. Tess Templar and other original characters belong to me.

* * *

><p>Dante chuckles as more demons come for him from the shadows of the burned and demolished warehouse. They go down fairly easily so he figures they're weak; they're probably just more leftovers from that stupid incident with the tower a year ago. These stragglers must be cut off from the Underworld for so long that they've lost most of their power, but they're still too dangerous to leave them loafing around.<p>

Besides, they keep him entertained.

A bigger scythe comes whistling for his neck but he tilts backwards lazily as it passes over him and he casually fires a shot right into that hood staring at him. _BANG!_ The demon utters a dull shriek and jerks backwards. That Vanguard is just so slow. Dante's not sure if he's gotten faster since he first fought these robed freaks or this one's just so slow because it's all tuckered out. It could be both.

"Man, you guys are so boring," Dante huffs as he twirls away from the Vanguard's vertical sweep. He turns one arm back and away from him and shoots out another, smaller scythe-wielder trying to sneak up on him. "But I guess after all that shit in the tower, it might take something a bit more special to give me some fun..."

Dante suddenly puts the guns away and seizes his sword. _CRUNCH! SHWACK! _The smaller demons are all cut down in just a few hits. Except the Vanguard-that one, he's saving for last. He wants to see just how far he can irritate it and just how weak it is.

_There's _still_ shit left behind, _he thinks. _It's been a whole frickin' year and they're still around; Prides, Sloths, Lusts, Vanguards-hell, even Abysses and Bloodgoyles, leftovers from that dumbass tower. Just how many got loose?_

The Vanguard proves to be less of a challenge and Dante is pretty sure now that it's because he's gotten better at taking them down, and he's a little bit disappointed by the fact. He makes quick work of it in the end because he's bored and just up and leaves, without even cracking a joke to himself. He's just too bored for that.

He makes his way out of that wrecked neighborhood block, that was crazy close to where Temen-ni-Gru had jutted up in the first place, and crosses town to get back to his new office.

_After all that shit last year, I'm lucky that dump was so dirt-cheap. Dude wanted to skip town so bad he nearly _gave_ me the damn place,_ Dante recalls with an amused smile.

But it's a good office and if he's lucky (or careful, it depends) this time it won't get trashed. It's still smack dab in the middle of the slums and he hasn't even done anything to make the place feel lived in yet, but at least the streets he's on are a bit livelier and a little less backwater. He's nearly reached his office when he looks up and suddenly stops dead on his tracks. Leaning against the wall there on the corner of the street, very close to the alley his office is in, is a girl with fiery red hair. Her back is facing him but she's wearing some form-flattering jeans and a black shirt, probably tied up on the front. Her hair is short and straight, but such a vibrant red that it stands out amid the washed out colors of the city like a beacon.

And it's just so familiar-looking that it _hurts_.

Caught off-guard, he takes a few hesitant steps closer. Her build looks about right too... but maybe not; who knows how she's changed? He gets closer still and the girl suddenly turns and looks at him over her shoulder and he stops again because it all makes sense. This girl is older than him, maybe she's 25, with hazel eyes and upon looking at her better, Dante realizes her hair is _dyed_ red. She has a fairly big chest and her waist and thighs look like they've done some childbearing already.

"Looking for a good time, honey? I like handsome boys like you," she says. Her voice is husky, weirdly sensual yet tired and Dante can see a cigarette in her hand. Her throat sounds like it's paid for her habit and she has that voracious kind of smile that women who have been doing this for enough time have.

She's actually rather good-looking for a prostitute, but it's not _her_ and Dante feels like he's been had. And of course he has been, except the perpetrator is his own mind, playing a pretty tasteless trick on him.

"Maybe some other time," he smoothly dodges the offer and walks past her. He can feel her persistent gaze on him and it follows him until he turns round the corner, hands in his pockets. When he's out of sight he awkwardly rubs the back of his neck. He realizes how dumb he felt back there and cringes.

_It's just...her hair was the same red as Tess'. What're the odds? I wonder what the Twig's doing, _he thinks and bites his lip a little.

He hasn't thought of her in a while; he's been too busy getting his life in some semblance of order and fighting. Mostly fighting, against his brother, then a megalomaniac seeking power and now all the demons they dredged up in the process. He certainly hasn't been double-taking at every red-head he's seen in the past few years, either; except this one. For some reason, Tess was on his mind today and he hadn't realized till now.

_That coven...huh, she never even told me what that is. I hope she hasn't gotten it tough._

He rubs the back of his neck again and thinks about something Tess told him once about her family. "All Templars are either bitches or loons, but they're all wicked at staying alive..." he mutters quietly, smirking. "Yeah, she'll be fine."

A thought crosses his mind that actually bothers him-hurts a little, even. _Maybe not entirely happy with that stuff...but she'll be ok. She better be._

He really hasn't thought of her in a while, and for good reason. He doesn't need to dwell on things that hurt, because he's had enough of that over the last year. It's been one bad dog that doesn't want to go down.

* * *

><p>That banshee just doesn't want to go down and Tess is really starting to get a headache from all that wailing.<p>

"Why can't you be one of the _peaceful_ banshees, goddamit..." she groans and runs after the fleeing specter. "Singing and blubbing your eyes out for funerals and tricking horny idiots! What's so bad about that!"

_No, you have to go and turn malevolent for God-knows-what reasons and torment and kill people-in my back yard! And then laugh at me!_ _The nerve! _she thinks. She suppresses an angry snarl.

The banshee finally stops fleeing and cackling at her and Tess can see that haggard feminine face looking at her with black, beady eyes and a malevolent stare. Tess thinks that whoever portrays faerie as aetherial, pretty or cute are all blithering idiots. Sometimes those creatures-the _Sidhe_ as they should be better known-can get malevolent, just like humans, and do the kind of bad things that old folklore warned people about...and worse still that stories don't even know of.

"Go on, shriek if you want!" she taunts the banshee and the creature obliges.

But Tess is not there when the banshee's death shriek rings; she's teleported behind the Sidhe and pulled out a steel dagger. _SHUNK!_ She thrusts the blade into the banshee and the creature suddenly behaves as if she has real, mortal flesh instead of otherworldly substance. Only iron and steel can do that to Sidhe. The banshee thrashes and shrieks again, reaching for Tess but she repels the banshee with a branding hex that hits the Sidhe square in the chest and makes a nasty sound like snapping bones.

She's only twenty and not much in way of size, strength or even experience, but Tess is by no means a hands-off kind of wiccan. She's only just mastered teleportation though, and that short distance has really done a number on her and she's panting like a marathon runner. The banshee's had it, at least, so instead of getting in there and risk having her ass handed to her, Tess feels safer sending the crazed Sidhe off with a banishing hex in the face that will cast her back to where she came from-wherever that is.

The banshee indeed goes but by no means quietly and Tess has to actually cover her ears with her hands from all that ear-piercing shrieking.

"Fuckin' asswipe bitch..." she growls as the banshee croaks her last gurgle and vanishes. She really hates these screaming bitches. They're all shriek, whine and an assload of weeping, but they sure as hell can hurt.

Tess' head is throbbing from all that screaming and her feet are killing her. She looks down on herself. Her jeans are more or less dirty now and there's one big, nasty tear on her knee from where she took a fall and got a bad scrape. Her top and shirt are in better way, although they're gonna need some washing. Other than that though, she's in much better shape than anybody else would've been, in her shoes.

Tess combs some of her short red hair off her face and thinks about that word she's just used-_asswipe-_-and smiles wryly. That's a bona-fide Dante word if there ever is such a thing. It's vulgar and funny all together, exactly as a 'Danteism' ought to be. It's something she learned from him and hasn't used in a long while, just like she's tried not to think about him. Worse yet, it makes her miss him.

_Heh...asswipe..._

* * *

><p><em>Goddamn little asswipe...where'd that come from? <em>Dante thinks. He has an amused smile when he pulls himself out of that big hole the demon's out-of-the-blue energy shot crashed him through. He's actually chuckling, not because that thing caught him off guard, but because of the stupid situation. What he's fighting here looks a frickin' _gremlin_, for shit's sake, about as big as a large dog and it sounds like a gerbil being strangled. And the damn thing's _fast_ too, darting around like...

_Like a hummingbird on speed_, he thinks and almost laughs at that thought.

He ducks out of the hole as the little creep comes darting for him, scissor-like claws and all. It's got a tail with a stinger on the end-probably toxic and a guaranteed shot of pain he doesn't really feel like dealing with. So he raises his gun and shoots it straight in the face, blowing its head into a million bloody pieces. The demon drops on the ground with a rather disappointing thud and starts to dissolve with ugly bubbling sounds. Dante's used to seeing that sort of thing from demons, so he puts his guns away and walks off, heading back to his office.

It's not that he doesn't like the surprise of being jumped all of a sudden; he just wishes it hadn't been right then, when all he really wanted was to get home to his office and sleep on his couch. Then again, better to suddenly have a demon drop out of nowhere like a brick, than have it burst in his office like last time.

_Dammit, I was so spaced, thinking about Tess_, he thinks, realizing how ridiculous that is. _That thing got the drop on me like I was some kinda rookie! Wonder why the Twig's on my mind so much today-it ain't just seeing that girl, I can't stop thinkin' about what she might be up to._

He looks up at his office as he comes near it. It's a pretty old building and it was full of junk when he got it but it's started to clean up alright. When he's got some dough saved aside he'll probably get a nice neon sign up to advertise his eventual business. Technically his business is up and running now but he often finds himself dodging requests because they're either stupid or don't interest him in the least. As he trudges in with a content sigh to be back, he takes off his sword, the guns and his coat, tossing the latter over to a hanger and the former onto his desk.

He can do his thinking and sleep later because getting a shower is all he can think about.

* * *

><p>All Tess can think about is that she hates that side job she does only for the sake of some actual money. She knows she takes that resentment out on any demon, undead or other stupid creature that she runs into-heck, she'll take it out on anything. Because it's nothing but eight hours of standing on her feet, listening to things that make kindergarten jargon sound intelligent, carrying drinks, coffees or snacks to what effectively amounts to overgrown babies who are always trying to stick their hands up her skirt or lower her IQ by about 5 digits with every pick-up line that's ever been used before...twice.<p>

_This_ kind of work, what she feels she's better off doing, is what feels good. She walks home with aching legs and sore all over-but content-away from where she got rid of that banshee and wishfully hopes Roy has made something for dinner. He works pretty hard too, keeping a job he also hates, as a janitor, and working his butt off to keep the nosy coven wiccans out of their affairs. On top of everything he has to deal with her terrible moods with a patience that really sometimes makes him saintly. Except he isn't a saint and that's why every so often they have these big, father-daughter type fights that are usually over something stupid, but more and more often over important things like the coven. Tess just hates them all but Roy feels she needs to bury her feelings and roll with it. Except 'rolling with it' has never been something she's particularly good at and she just hates getting him upset because he's all the family she's got left.

That's the other reason why she likes sneaking off and hunting down creatures like that banshee. It's not a business, even though she sometimes does get paid for it, and it's not exactly a hobby either. It's more of a need and Tess always sarcastically thinks it's the only kind of 'therapy' that works for her. It feels like freedom and it feels like a big, bold 'screw you' to the coven and its rules and all that resentment they have for her because she's got the blood of someone who wasn't fully human and yet wasn't a demon in her veins and that's exactly the way she likes it.

_I blame Dante for the way I am_, she thinks with an amused, yet still angry smile. _I wouldn't be such a defying little asshat if he hadn't taught me that being one felt good when you don't know what else to do. It's...keeping me going._

Her feet, sore from these new boots (they're probably going to turn out to be a pretty bad purchase after all), probably blistered on the ankle where the skin's rubbing on the leather and most definitely raw all over the sole of the foot, are killing her. It wasn't just the long hours on her feet today, there's the added hurt from hunting down and then wrecking a hellhound before that banshee. And now she's got that nagging feeling of loneliness that's biting at her heels like an annoying dog.

_I'm close to limping for fuck's sake. I wouldn't be surprised if my feet are _bleeding_!_ _Whoever moron thought of making women's shoes this uncomfortable should get eaten by demons or something..._

She can't handle that ache anymore and stops, angrily yanks her boots off and flexes her sore feet; surely enough, they're red and raw on the ankle and the ball of her foot and she cringes. But the cold cobblestone she's stepping on actually feels good. It's been worn smooth by thousands of feet over the years and it's cool and downright soothing. She starts walking again and her limp is just very slight, which makes her happy. Walking barefoot isn't that bad, if you're in the right mindset...

* * *

><p>...because it really is something humanity's been doing since childhood. Everyone starts out walking barefoot. Dante walks barefoot like that around his office, a bit impatiently. There's no way he could wear those boots now, as wet as they were after trudging through water, mud and some sludge that he'd rather not analyze even for a joke. He's never been a clean-freak but even he draws a line at something like that and after showering, he tossed them into the tub with hot water and soap. So while they dry, all he can do is trudge around barefoot. Besides, the new office has clean enough floors still.<p>

He drops on his couch with a beer to drink, crossing his legs lazily and relaxing.

_Ain't much to do other than sit around and do nothing. Not that I mind,_ _though_, he thinks with a smirk. _'S times like these that I miss that Twig. She was always fun to tease and if not, she'd always have some idea to fight boredom. Not always good, but at least she had ideas._

His stomach growls quietly.

_Damn__,__ I'd kill for a piece of that crazy Hate Cake she would bake,_ he thinks and laughs at himself. _Wow, never thought _I'd _crave cake like this. _

But then his smile fades and he wonders whether he should've somehow kept her from leaving. But to what end? He leans forward a bit, resting his elbows on his knees and drinking beer. What with what had happened last year, with Vergil and everything, he realizes what a mistake that would have turned out to be.

_Hate to admit this...but I'm glad she didn't stay. I don't think I could've kept her safe with all that shit happening. I wouldn't want her involved. _

He grimaces and leans back again. _I shouldn't think that way._ _With that logic it'd be better if we never met again because I don't think I'm ever gonna stop getting mixed with demons and shit like that. Maybe she doesn't want that stuff, anyway. I wouldn't blame her, after what happened back then. _

He grunts a bit and rubs his face. "Dammit, enough, she can't have gotten like that. Tess' made of tougher stuff... Bet she ain't even thinking about me," he mutters very quietly to quell his thoughts. He wonders what she's up to now, as he stares out his somewhat dirty windows into the street. Wasn't much of a view, but come evening, he has a straight on view of the sun descending to dusk.

* * *

><p>Roy asks her if her feet are feeling better and she dully replies that they do, while staring out the window into the dreary little port of the town they live in. It's dingy and almost depressing but it's still a way out of this place so it's a weird little comfort to look at, even from afar. Tess sighs contently and rests her arm on the windowsill while flexing her feet in that salt bath Roy drew up for her when she came home barefoot. He went on a rant about shoes and what kind she wears all the time and then went back to his cat-nap; he may be a djinn but he's still a cat alright. Nothing gets between him and sleeping.<p>

She rarely just sits around doing nothing but this particular time she just doesn't feel like doing anything. She's tired and feeling somewhat blue so she just sits by her window, keeps her feet in the soothing warm water and stares outside.

_Funny how I got thinking about Dante today,_ she wonders and rests her head on her arm. _I used to think that it'd just make me depressed if I did but it really isn't that bad. Of course, I miss that bastard but it's not like I'm pining to death here. It'd be embarrassing if I did. _

The day rolls away into night as she sits there and at some point Tess hears the croon of some night bird from somewhere nearby. It makes her think of what he could be doing now.

_I know he was involved in that story about a tower just sprouting up that I heard... I wish I knew more details. Bet he at least had more fun that I've had in ages... Maybe I _will_ take that trip to the Highlands and have a look at that monastery. It could just be rumors but it might be interesting... _

Tess huffs a bit and gets up, steps out of the footbath and dries off her feet on a towel. She tries to push away those thoughts because they're just making her feel lonely and she hates that. She wishes she could make some friend among the coven wiccans but it's impossible with this lack of trust. She hasn't even given them her real name so that they can't cast some spell or hex on her. They don't trust her and of course she doesn't trust them. If she could leave she would have, but she knows that her powers and skills are not what she wants them to be. They're not what they have to be to enable her to be independent of these idiots. She still has things to learn and until she does, she can't go anywhere.

_And of course...I'd never go back just to need protection. Screw that. I'd rather not see him again if it meant I was a burden,_ she thinks sourly and almost throws the towel away. _I know I could never stand on even ground with him. But...I want to be able to look at him in the eye. _

She leans on the windowsill again and smirks. _In fact, I want to be able to kick all kinds of ass. Then I can just leave and go wherever I want. Go...home, even._

She stands straight again and stretches a little, before closing the window. _I wonder what he's doing right now?_

* * *

><p>Relaxing in his office as night falls, Dante indulges in his favorite dinner: Pizza and he thoroughly enjoys the taste of the steaming hot cheese. <em>Wonder what trouble that Twig's getting into right now,<em> he thinks with a smirk. _Probably giving it hell herself._

The thought of leaving the city to go find her crossed his mind a little earlier and tempting as it was, he shot it down. He wouldn't know where to begin looking, in the first place. He lived with them for months and yet he learned very little about wiccans. Roy had warned him that wiccans were very secretive people and Dante had figured out why. They were premium hunt for demons and humans did not trust them. Wiccans didn't like sharing their secrets with just anybody, let alone those they didn't trust. Tess had been a novice herself at the time, so anything he knew from her was pretty much small stuff. Since then he'd taken the trouble to learn whatever he could, but his knowledge was more about how to deal with them when they went rogue than understanding their habits. He'd never be able to find her now.

She'd promised she'd come find him when things had settled down for her, but he'd already made up his mind to try and learn how to track wiccans down. Perhaps he could beat her to it.

* * *

><p><strong>NOTES: <strong>This story is, in its entirety, an experiment that I'd like to believe was successful. First of all, I tried a present tense instead of my usual past tense, to create a sense of immediacy and parallel layout of the scenes. My intent was to mirror the kind of similar lives Tess and Dante wind up living in the years they go their separate ways.

I also tried a method of transition that I first read in Stephen King. I'm a huge fan of his work and even more so of his style and attitude towards writing, so I wanted to try out this type of smooth transitions between scenes. He usually employs it when switching from present to past memories, but I used it in moving between different spaces in roughly the same time frame.


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